


Charlie's Angel

by slutforcavill



Series: Eyes On You [2]
Category: Peaky Blinders (TV), Peaky Blinders RPF
Genre: Abuse of Authority, Arranged Marriage, Asshole Tommy Shelby, Birmingham City, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Gangs, Hate Sex, Love/Hate, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-25
Updated: 2020-08-08
Packaged: 2021-03-04 18:49:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 12
Words: 24,578
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25471162
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/slutforcavill/pseuds/slutforcavill
Summary: "Was it fun watching me suffer? Did it fucking bring joy to you watching me cry for my dead baby? You're a fucking arse, Tommy Shelby, you always will be."His shoulders hunched and his lowered. He couldn't meet your gaze. He sunk back against the couch and looked away, just the way he always did.You gave him love and he abused it. Are you angry? No. You are bitter, and that's worse.Anger is temporary, bitterness lasts a long time, sometimes, forever.
Relationships: Tommy Shelby/Reader
Series: Eyes On You [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1847581
Comments: 40
Kudos: 65





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> I am back, just like I said I would. 
> 
> Well for now, it's just the prologue. 
> 
> Have fun.

1 year later,

Your office was smothered in smoke, your ruby tainted lips puckered as you took a drag of your cigarette plucking it off your lips, toying with it between your fingers as your eyes scanned through the files in front of you. Whoever had worked on this file hadn't done it properly, it was in a horrible state. 

You looked at the calendar that hung on the wall in front of you, it had been a year since that fateful day at the races and you had moved on. You had made a life for yourself here, in Birmingham City. They now called you the Devil's Angels, the gang that you led, the gang that you had pulled to the top, the gang that once belonged to your beloved dear _dead_ husband.

Your friend, or _whatever_ he was to you, the only _male_ stuck with you – in a pool of all the deadly, ruthless women from all over Birmingham and London, those who you had rescued from violent husbands over the course of the year, or picked up from whore houses, all of whom ended up joining the Devil's Angels, because you provided them with safety and a roof over their heads, while they did your bidding for you – knocked on the door.

Your partnership with Alfie Solomons was simple – he was your advisor. You gave him almost 40 percent of your profit earnings from business, while he gave you his men, to fight along your women, when required, giving you and your girls an additional security.

"Alfie." You greeted him, a coy smile playing around the edge of your lips, the scar that the impact of Tommy's slap had given you still visible, faintly. 

You noticed how Alfie didn't give you a smile back as he stepped in, the sound of his feet clanking against the floor faintly audible, his fingers stroking through his heavy moustache. He grabbed the chair, pulling it with a creak, and slumped on it, placing his elbows on the desk. 

"We've got a problem."

You raised a brow, staring at him. 

"Go on, tell me." 

Alfie shrugged, his hand reaching out to get a hold of the box of cigarettes that lay on your desk, next to the pen holder. He pulled out a stick, bringing it to his lips and lit a match, the soft orange glow causing his face to look brighter as he lit his cigarette. 

"There's a bloody factory worker that goes by John 'John' Bentley, by the distillery, an arsehole if you ask me." 

"Get to the point, Alfie." You gave him a pointed glare. 

"He is basically leading a sort of a revolution. Talking to the lads around, planting into their minds how the Devil's Angels have falsefully instilled themselves as fearful in the minds of people. I heard a boy at the bakery, he was talking to his friend, telling him how the Devil's Angels is run by a group of _women_ and they shouldn't be bloody afraid of them."

You were sitting still, only your eyeballs rolling around slightly, your expressions that of a stone. You shot out an exhale, sitting back, against the chair, your fingers toying with a pen. 

"This is not good, definitely not good. It's bloody bad for business. You know what that means?" 

He took a drag of the cigarette, his head moving faintly in a nod.

You lunged forward, your palm slamming against a thick file, pulling it towards you. With adept fingers, you started skimming through its pages until you were finally on the page you were looking for. You pressed your index finger to the page, looking up at him. 

"See this? Rifles – five bloody Remington Model 14," your index finger moved from entry to entry, his eyes following you, "here – the Vickers Machine Guns, six bloody machine guns, where is the bloody payment? Where is it? All I see is a blank over here. Who the fuck handed them the guns without taking the payment for them?"

"One of the women, I suppose. I didn't look into it." He looked from the file in your hand to you, bringing the cigarette to his lips. "I'll go and get the money, it's no big deal." 

"No, you won't" You slammed your fisted palm against the desk, hoisting yourself up, Alfie looking up at you. 

"They think us women are bloody weak, don't they? We'll go and get the fuckin' cash ourselves." You turned around, guiding your way towards the door, grabbing your coat. With swift movements, you pushed your hands through its sleeves, pulling it over your frame when Alfie walked up to you and stood in front of you, leaning against the door.

"That last Remington was sold to a Michael Gray."

Your body froze at the mention of that name, a sudden fire igniting through your insides. 

"Michael Gray? Polly's son?" 

Alfie nodded, moving out of your way and opening the door for you. "Works as an accountant for the Peaky Blinders, that one. It will be hard to get that bloody payment." 

You and Alfie walked side by side down the hall, a dim lighting illuminating the way ahead for you. 

"I know you bloody don't give a shit if he's one of them, I know how to you will always get what is rightfully yours. What's funny is that Michael Gray chose a rival gang to get what he needed. I'm sure Tommy Shelby won't like it a bit." Alfie's voice rang through your ears and you almost threw back your head giving him a soft chuckle. 

"Give me ten Tommy Shelby's, I'll still get the money Michael owes us, I don't care if I have to burn their property to a crisp to get it." The minute those words slid out of your mouth, you both crossed a cabinet. Your hand flew to the matchbox lying on it, grabbing it in your clutches, your pace not slowing a bit. 

"Oh no, don't even think about doing that –" Alfie suddenly stopped walking, reaching out and grabbing you by your wrist forcing you to stop as well. " – you are actually planning to burn down the fucking Arrowe House, aren't you?" 

You gave him a smile. 

"I don't say I wouldn't. I might change my bloody mind if they agree to pay what they owe me." 

Alfie's grip left your wrist, but he didn't follow you. When you reached the front door, you turned towards him and noticed that he was standing by the wall, leaning against it, watching you carefully. 

"Don't get too close to the Sun, (Y/N). It will bloody burn you down." 

You took a step, stepping out of your door your face now turned towards Alfie Solomons. 

"What if I am the Sun, what's going to burn me down?" 

Alfie just shook his head but he didn't reply, he knew it was useless to disagree with you, you had stopped listening to advices a long back ago. You did what you wanted to do.


	2. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Original character alert.

The only sound that could be heard on the street was the sound of the hooves of your white stallion, as it trotted down the path, along with three girls on their own horses, the newest recruits of Devil's Angels. John 'John' Bentley was to be at a pub tonight and you were on your way to meet him, and probably _have a word._ It was strange for Birmingham city to be surrounded in a mass of silence, especially this side of the city, Small Heath, which was a hub for all sorts of crimes that commenced after the sun had set. 

Your horses came to halt in front of a brightly lit pub. You hoisted yourself off the horse, patting it slightly across his neck and holding its reins, you manoeuvred your horse towards the poles outside, tying it up. You pulled out your box of cigarettes, pulling out a stick from it, placing it to your lips, and then lit a match, lighting it. 

"Listen up, girls, no fucker ever calls us weak and gets away with it. What do we do when someone does that?" You screamed, loud enough for them to hear. 

"WE DEFEND OUR BLOODY HONOUR!" The three girls screamed in unison, causing a weak smile to break out against your lips and a confident nod. 

You pushed your hands through your hair, your fingers pushing through them as you walked towards the pub, your boots clicking against the paved road.

You could see from the glass windows of the pub that men were tumbling around inside, their drink glasses swaying in their hands, bumping into each other, occasionally a fight breaking out between them. Your hand flew to the holster in your waist, your fingers curling around your pistol, as you pulled it out, holding it against your side. With one swift kick to the door, you and your girls burst in, your guns gripped tightly in your hands. Suddenly, everyone turned towards you, some of them occasionally sharing glances with each other. 

You knew you were on the Peaky Blinders property, but this didn't deter you from what you wanted to do. 

"I'm looking for a John 'John' Bentley." You called out, loud enough for everyone to hear. 

Suddenly the pub erupted into hushed whispers amongst each other while your eyes scanned through the crowd, looking for anyone who looked like he was about to shit his pants, that was the man you were looking for until your eyes fell on a man at the extreme end of the room, a round hat on top of his head. 

This had to be John, his pallor had changed and he looked like he was extremely cold, all colour drained out of his face. He nervously looked around the room, nervously glancing in the direction of the door. You motioned to one of the girls who stepped next to you, sliding her hand against her thigh. 

Leaning close to her you whispered into her ear. She nodded and a smile broke out against her cherry coloured lips, as she raised her gun yielding hand in the air, towards this man and started walking towards him with brisk steps. 

"Well, you. Get your arse over here, John." You said in loud voice, audible enough for everyone in the pub to hear. As your girl started walking back towards you, her gun pressed to the back of the man's head, you hopped over one of the tables, crossing one leg over the other while your hand toyed with the gun in your hand.

When he was pushed to stand in front of you, you gave him a sly smile, your lashes almost batting at him. 

"I didn't fucking do anything." He stammered, his eyes moving from you to your girls and then back at you. 

He was so funny. You laughed. 

"I've heard otherwise. I've heard some things about you, Mr. Bentley. I've heard that you are trying to start a bloody revolution. Against Devil's Angels. Is that correct?" Your laugh suddenly turned to a pointed glare, your eyes filled with the anger building up inside you. 

"A.. revolution? You must be mistaken –" 

The bullet from your pistol hit the floor with a crack, missing his leg by just an inch, causing a burst of splinters of wood, smoke bellowing from the barrel of your gun. You gave him a terrifying stare down and hopped off the table. Terrified, he jumped backwards, and ran off, which you ignored. Your job of scaring him off was complete. 

"No fucking body out here should now forget who we are. Yes, we're women but we are ten times you men will ever be. Don't fuckin' think for a minute that you can do business with us and fuck with our money, we are going to bloody come for you. All of you scum." You moved your gun in the air, pointing it towards the men who were gawking at you now with their mouths hung open.

"You." You suddenly called out to the bartender. His head snapped towards you, his lower lip trembling, "Ale." You said to him in a low voice and lowered yourself on the stool by the counter running your hand through your hair as you saw him nod fervently and rush away to get your drink. 

It was working – No wonder Tommy always carried a gun, a gun pointed to their heads always makes people fear you. 

You were pulled out of your thoughts when the bartender placed a glass of ale in front of you. You nodded at him, curling your fingers around the glass and lifted it, almost bringing it up to your lips when you heard the sound of the motor of the engine go off outside.

"Who the _fuck_ is that?" You stood up, lowered yourself, your hand on your hips as you asked the bartender. 

"It must be them... The _Peaky Blinders_." 

"Those rats are everywhere." You muttered under your breath, your fingers curling around the glass. You brought it up to your lips, downing it in one go, the warm liquid gushing down your throat like a bitter medicine. 

As if on cue, the door swung open and your head shot towards it, your eyes falling on the men as they walked in, their guns in their hands, their eyes on you. 

"I know, this is your fucking property, and we are trespassing." You said in an uninterested voice, your eyes moving from Arthur to John, and then towards the man in the middle, Thomas Shelby. 

"You know you're outnumbered, seven to three." Tommy said, his voice loud but without a hint of aggression. 

"Give us Michael Gray." You stepped towards him, your fingers tightly curled against the gun, hanging against your side, your eyes alert, noticing every movement that the Shelby's made. 

"Don't force me to hurt you, (Y/N). Walk out of here and we will pretend this never happened." Tommy's blue eyes looked into yours, his face expressionless, while Arthur took a drag of a cigarette and took a step forward, only to be stopped by Tommy who put a hand in front of him. 

"We won't leave until we have our money, Mr. Shelby. I thought you understood how hard earned our money is, the things we bloody do, the both of us, every single shilling counts, does it not? You expect us to trade guns with your men without a bloody payment for it? You think we run a fucking charity institution?"

You crossed your arms over your chest, the gun still in your hand. 

"We don't owe you any bloody money, why don't you get the _fuck_ off before we load these bullets into your heads?" Arthur growled, pushing Tommy's hand away, speed walking in your direction. Your lips twitched and you took a sharp breath, stepping into Arthur's face until you were standing an inch away from him, his eyes boring into yours, swollen and red, just like yours – full of rage. 

"Arthur, enough –" Tommy walked up to where Arthur was, fixing his palm against his arm, dragging him slightly away from you and he turned to his brothers. "Let's hear what they have to say, shall we?" He let go of Arthur's sleeve and Arthur let out an annoyed groan, moving away from you, deliberately pushing you by his side his shoulder grazing against you and moved to the bar to get himself a drink, leaving you and Tommy in a face off with John standing next to him. "Michael Gray owes us for the Remington he bought. I don't care how but we will get the money that he owes to us."

Tommy didn't reply, he faintly looked down at his feet, his hand flying up to his cap, fixing it properly and his eyes flew back up again. 

"Send someone over to the house tomorrow, I don't have the money on me right now." 

You looked at him in disbelief, your lips parting and you tongue sliding out and licking your lips to moisten them. As though he had understood your expressions, he slid his gun into the pocket of his overcoat and mumbled, barely audible, "You have my word." Your lips parted and you wanted to say something sarcastic, but somehow, you nodded and closed your mouth again, grabbing a cigarette and placing it between your lips. 

"Until tomorrow, Tommy." You turned away, inhaling the smoke from your cigarette as your eyes fixed on Arthur who was scowling at you from the bar, making you pass him a fake smile. Tommy kept looking at the back of your head, his gaze slowly wandering downwards, giving you a quick do over with his eyes as you motioned towards your girls that were slouched on one of the tables, drinking. 

You walked out with your head held high, knowing the fact that you had the Peaky Blinders eyes on you right now. There was something about power that made even the worst of your enemies seem less frightful to you. 

You walked to your stallion, nuzzling the side of your face with its face for a second before loosening the reins that was tying it to the pole. Placing your foot on the saddle , you pushed yourself over it, until you were comfortably perched on top of the horse and you slowly rode away.


	3. Chapter 2

You took a sip of your tea, your wet hair falling loosely over your shoulders as you dragged your feet towards your bedroom. Placing your palm against the doorknob, you turned it and the door opened with a creak. Alfie was standing in front of your vanity, putting his shirt buttons on. 

"Where are you off to?" You asked, almost startling him as his head shot towards you, his eyes slightly widened. 

"Don't bloody creep up on me like that," he shook his head and turned back towards the mirror again, running his hands through his hair to put them back in place while you placed the tea on your bedside table and sat down against the edge of the bed, your hand reaching for the drawer, pulling it open.Your pistol, the one that Tommy Shelby gave you, still lay there, untouched, next to a box of cigarettes.

"I'm gonna head over to the Arrowe House, to get the money from Tommy." His voice reached you, making you look away from the drawer and fix your passive stare on Alfie. 

"I didn't ask you to." 

"You would have sent anyone anyway, I thought I'd volunteer myself." He gave you a brief glance, before turning back towards the mirror. 

You parted your lips and a weak sigh escaped from your mouth as you pushed yourself up in a standing position and slowly walked to where he was standing. 

"Why do you think I can't handle the fucking Shelby's?"

Your words flew out of your mouth at the exact same time when your palm reached towards Alfie, your fingers gripping his arm as you turned him to face you. 

He kept looking down at you, but didn't say anything. 

"Answer me, Mr. Solomons." 

Instead of answering, Alfie let out a shaky breath, his hands slowly fixing on your waist, a sudden tingly feeling bursting through your insides at his touch. It wasn't like Tommy's touch – it didn't cause a fire to erupt in the pit of your stomach, it didn't cause your mind to lose its senses and it didn't cause sudden palpitations of your heart, but, you did feel it – a tiny spark going off somewhere deep inside you, waiting to erupt into a full fledged flame. He pulled you closer to him, your front hitting against his front, your hand flying out involuntarily and resting over his broad chest. 

"It makes me jealous." 

A small smile threatened to tug across the corner of your lip. You dragged your palm, stroking his chest over the fabric of his clothes, watching his breathing hitch for a split second. 

"Jealous of what?" You asked, biting the insides of your cheeks. 

"With Grace nothing but a cold corpse in her grave, I'm jealous of ending up bloody losing you to that _fuck_ , Tommy Shelby." His voice was sincere, his eyes sparkling as he looked into your eyes without moving it away.

Your hands flew up to Alfie's face,cupping his cheeks with your palms as you tenderly gazed into his sparkling irises. 

"I'm done with letting him mess with my mind, Alfie, I'm done with Thomas Fuckin' Shelby. There's nothing in this world that can make the bitterness I have for him go away. I'm done with bloody getting my heart trampled on, again and again. I'm done." You looked away for a brief second, feeling your eyes well up. Taking a sharp breath, you pushed yourself out of Alfie's embrace and walked up to your closet to pull out your trench coat. 

"I'm going to deal with the Shelby's, Alfie, it's my bloody war, and it's mine to fight, _alone_." You could see it in his eyes, how he disagreed with you, but he didn't utter a word. Instead, he walked out of the bedroom, slamming the door shut, loudly. You let out a weak sigh at his outburst, not wanting to let it get into your mind and break the confidence you had. Pulling your coat on, you slid on your boots and pulled a hat over your head. 

You were going to deal with this and get it over with. It was just Tommy Shelby, you reminded yourself. 

-

You turned off the engine of your motorcar, stepping out of it, your eyes eying the massive structure in front of you. The house was beautiful, no wonder Moore wanted it first and now Tommy owned it.

It was a beautiful structure, made of red bricks, standing tall in a sea of green, lush green lawn, shady trees growing all around it. Your eyes darted around you, watching with curiousity, looking for any human activity around there, but you found none. 

You let your gun rest in your holster, as you found yourself walking closer towards the wooden door, your palm thrown forward, until your fisted palm came in contact with the door and you rasped on it and waited. You heard heavy footsteps on the other side of the door and suddenly the door was pulled open from the inside, revealing Arthur Shelby, his eyes narrowed at you. 

"What happened to the fucking heroic entries, blazing guns and hopping off horses." He said, sarcastically as he moved out of your way, waiting for you to come in. 

"I didn't think I would need it, tell me firsthand if I do." You smiled, taking off your coat and placing it on the coat hanger by the door as your eyes scanned the interior of the house. Your eyes fell on a portrait, the live size portrait of Tommy, Grace and a year old Charlie, looking down at you. You ignored it. 

"My money, Arthur. I need my fucking money." 

Arthur looked at you, and let out a grunt. 

"Go talk to Tommy, he is by the first room on the left."Before you could even reply, Arthur's steps retreated away, as he walked away, disappearing into one of the hallways which was weird in so many ways, the primary one being that he had actually left you alone to roam around in their house. 

_First room to the left,_ you recalled Arthur's words in your mind as you walked down the quiet hallway, your nostrils inhaling the strong stench of smoke and booze. 

There it was, the first door on the left. You took a deep breath, briefly clenching your eyes shut, your lost confidence filling you back up. With fast steps, you walked up to the door, knocked on it twice and when there was no response, you placed your hand on the door knob and pushed open the door.

"That's not how you bite into an apple, Charlie, look you have bloody ruined your shirt. You've got the juice all over you." 

Tommy looked up when you opened the door, your eyes falling on him, his eyes meeting yours halfway through his round glasses, his blue meeting your (y/e/c) ones. Charlie was perched on the desk in front of him, his tiny palms grabbing Tommy by the collar of his shirt, a half eaten apple laying on his desk, his files covered in juice. 

"We have a guest, Charlie." He whispered to his son, and you stepped in, closing the door behind you.

"It's a bad time, is it not?" You mumbled, under your breath, your arms crossing over your chest. You didn't bother sitting down, you just found yourself leaning by the window, your eyes drawn to the little boy that looked just like Tommy, making your heart suddenly ache for the baby you had lost. 

"There's never a bad time in business." He said, as he stood up and lifted Charlie up in his arms, fixing him on his waist. 

"Wait here." 

You nodded as you watched him disappear through the door to his right, which you assumed was probably Charlie's bedroom. You pulled out a chair and lowered yourself into it, placing your elbows on the desk as you waited until Tommy was back again, his shoes clicking against the wooden floorboards. 

"I spoke to Michael." 

"And?" 

Tommy didn't answer. You watched as he sat down in front of you, eying you through his glasses for a second before he bent down and pulled open a drawer, pulling out a stash of cash and slid it towards you. 

"This should be all." 

You gave him a faint nod, reaching out and placing your palm on the money, your fingers moving in a fast pace to count it.

"Well, it's settled. This is all Michael owed us."

You stood up, deliberately causing your chair to graze against the floorboards, as an uneasy silence filled up the room. You stuffed the money into the handbag you had brought with you and with one glance at Tommy, you turned around, walking towards the door when he spoke. 

"Wait." 

Your feet stopped walking, your body freezing, as though it worked on Tommy's command, and you mentally cursed yourself. 

"You look good." He stated. 

Your heart skipped a beat, but you chose to ignore it as you replied, "I'm sorry to hear about Grace." 

"Are you really?" 

You didn't listen further. You pushed yourself out of his room, slamming the door shut on his face. With fast paced steps, you started walking back in the direction you came from, ignoring Charlie's loud wailing that you could hear from the hallway.


	4. Chapter 3

It was rare when you got excessively drunk; but when you did, you forgot all the elements of time and space and lost yourself. Today was just another day when you had decided to go to a pub with your girls and you had gotten drunk enough to sneak out through the back entrance, without anyone noticing you. 

Still holding the almost empty bottle of scotch, you tumbled down the street which was buzzing with the sound of a few motor cars that passed you by, honking. You kept swaying and walking until you found yourself getting closer to the docks. 

Pushing yourself up on the boundary wall that clearly read _No Trespassing_ , you hopped over on the other side of the wall, landing on your feet, a sudden jolt of electricity surging through your body as it hit the ground. You looked around, realizing that you were inside a factory by the river.

Still holding your bottle in hand, you stepped over the wooden deck, breathing in the fresh riverside air, your mind clearing up a bit as you lowered yourself at the edge, staring at the moonlight that was reflecting over the surface of the water. You brought up the neck of the bottle to your lips, swallowing the left over scotch in one go, licking your lips when a voice behind you almost toppled you over, into the water, had you not grabbed the wooden deck at the right time. 

Your head turned sharply towards the source of the noise and that's when you saw the shadow of a man, leaping off from the boundary wall, just where you had jumped off from. Immediately, your hand flew to the gun that was securely held in your holster, and you pulled out the gun, pulling it in view, aiming it at the stranger.

"Don't fucking shoot." The voice said, his arms thrown out in front of him, beckoning you to stop, "I just want to talk." 

"Who the bloody fuck are you?" You hissed at him, still aiming the gun to his chest as you saw him slowly step into your line of you. The face was enough for you to know who he was; he was a replica of her. 

"Michael Fuckin' Gray, what's your bloody problem? I would have shot your head off." You lowered your weapon, but still didn't tuck it back in the holster, your eyes alert, as much as your disorientated and tipsy mind allowed you to be, your eyes watching his movements. 

"I've been meaning to speak to you." He approached you, hesitantly at first but when he saw that you had tucked the gun back into the holster, he walked up closer and lowered himself next to you on the deck, while you reached for your box of cigarettes and pulled out one, flicking it to your lips. 

"It better be important, for you to be here, and not back with Polly at this hour of the day." You muttered, bringing the lit match to the end of your stick, lighting it. "Does Pol know what you're doing?" 

Michael ran his hand sheepishly through his hair and then looked at you, "She thinks I visit a brothel." 

You chuckled at the thought; it was hilarious. It would have been _normal_ if Michael Gray was actually visiting a whore house and not sitting next to you by the river, doing whatever he was. 

"Mum sends her love." 

Your head shot towards him, a faint smile breaking out against your lips. 

"Did she? I miss her too, a lot more than she thinks I do. She was the only thing that kept me sane while I was working for the Shelby's." You moved your gaze away from his pale face your eyes wandering over the surface of water. You knew Polly; she loved you, there was no doubt about it, but you weren't stupid. She had Michael approach you, just to tell you she loved you? Impossible. 

"So, why?" You asked, turning towards him. 

He looked at you, puzzled. 

"Why?" 

"I know this is not the only bloody reason Polly sent you here, you as well I know that. Now cut the crap and tell me what is it that she wants?" You asked him, point blank. 

You could see that you had embarrassed the boy, although it was too dark to see his expressions. His palm flew up to his cap, fixing it properly as you brought your cigarette to your lips and inhaled the smoke. 

"You know my mum too well I suppose." You heard him say and you hummed in acknowledgement, waiting for him to speak. 

"She needs your help. It's about Tommy." 

_Tommy Fuckin' Shelby_. 

"I don't care about fucking Tommy." You spat at him. 

"I thought you cared about honour. I thought you owed Tommy. He saved you from Edmund Moore, if he hadn't , you would be dead." Michael chastised you causing you to clench your fingers into a fist. 

"Don't remind me Michael, it's a fucking cycle, he pushes me under the fucking bus and then comes to rescue me. Fucking arse." You cursed under your breath. Although, somehow a part of you felt like you owed him. Maybe this was a time to pay back your dues. "What's he done now?" 

Michael shrugged, "It's more about what mum has done. Tommy went to London, to assassinate Father Hughes, he got a tip-off that the bastard is working for the Russians and is a double agent." He scratched the back of his head, pausing to take a breath while you inhaled the smoke from your cigarette, listening, comprehending. 

"So what's the problem here? I think Tommy ain't a child and he fucking knows what he's doing." You muttered, your eyes rolling as a response. 

"The problem is, mum made a mistake. Somehow, in a drunken state, she made a confession at the church, how Tommy was planning to take down the man in robes." Michael was now staring at you, and you understood, well enough to be able to fill his next words.

"And that Priest was none other than Father Hughes." You said, sighing in the end. 

You hoisted yourself up off the deck, looking down at Michael as you wiped the back of your skirt with your palm. 

"What does she want me to do about it?" You asked. 

"She's scared for Tommy, he's bloody gone there alone." 

Typical Tommy; he had lost his brains with Grace too.

"It's not my bloody war to fight. Besides, I think Tommy can take care of himself. What about Arthur? John? The rest of the fucking Peaky Blinders? What's the bloody point of being a gang leader if no one will help you in a time like this?" You glared at him, watching him hoist himself up, until he was standing facing you.

"Arthur's on a bloody cocaine raid, John's just pissed at the family and has gone away, no one knows where." He shook his head and you swallowed the amused grunt that was threatening to escape your lips, thinking of how dysfunctional this family had become. 

"Well, I'm gonna have to pass as well, you see, I have my own pressing matters to work on. And it's pretty late." You turned around, ready to walk away when you felt Michael grab your arm, stopping you. 

"Tommy would do the same for you." 

You sharply turned towards him, your eyes suddenly cloudy as you hissed, venom coating your words. 

"He fucking wouldn't and he fucking didn't." 

Michael didn't falter; you had to commend this boy's perseverance. 

"Be the bigger person, Ms. (l/n), be the bigger person that he could never be. Do this for Polly, and for Charlie, he's already lost a mother, he shouldn't lose his father too." 

You let out a groan, your hands flying to your head as though you had a headache, your fingers rubbing your temples. 

"Did anyone ever tell you that you're such a fucking smooth talker?" You gave him a smile and he let out the breath that you thought he was holding in, while waiting for your response. 

"You'll help?" 

You nodded. 

"For the love of God, I'll go to London, see if Tommy needs any help, which I doubt he should. But this will be the last fucking time I ever do something for you Shelby's, hear me?" 

He nodded, "Yes ma'am."


	5. Chapter 4

Nothing had changed in London since you had last been here, with Tommy. It was ironical, you were again here for _him_ and him alone; although you had done a fairly good job of denying this to Michael, that you were doing this for Charlie, so that he doesn't end up losing his father as well, which was true to some extent. 

You and your girls crept through the alleys in the dark, as your palm clutched on a piece of paper where an address had been scribbled in an ugly handwriting - the place where Tommy was going to go, to assassinate Father Hughes.

You mentally cursed Tommy Shelby, cursing him for how naive and stupid Grace's death had probably made him. He hadn't even done his background search on the priest and had no fucking idea he was actually back in Birmingham and not even in London. You wondered what was waiting for you, and Tommy, back here in London and you hoped you were on time. Tommy was a single man and if Father Hughes' men marched on him, he will definitely be outnumbered. 

"This is it, girls. It's Showtime." You finally stopped walking, keeping sure to stay hidden by the thick stone boundary wall of an equally shabby looking building, the one that matched the address. 

"Why are we doing this again? It's not even our bloody business." You heard a girl say, when you shot her an angry glare and she took a step away. 

"We're doing this to stay at peace with the fuckin' Shelby's. We don't want to engage in war with the Peaky Blinders when we have a lot of other enemies on our tails," you muttered back, your eyes scanning the windows for any movement. "So stop whining about it and –" Before you could complete your sentence, a loud gunshot rang out from inside the building. 

Your hand flew to your gun instantaneously and you pulled it out, suddenly running through the shadows towards the house. 

"We break here. This house has multiple exits. Everyone go in through different exits. And kick some arses." You whispered, and heard footsteps retreat away as all the girls went in different directions. You spotted an open window in front of you and you fixed yourself against it. You looked inside, you could smell gunpowder and cigarettes but no one was in sight so you jumped in through the window, as discreetly as you could and holding your gun, you tiptoed inside, until you finally heard the sounds of men speaking to each other in hushed voices. 

_"What do we do with you, Mr. Shelby? Father Hughes hasn't given us any clear instructions. I think the best bloody way would be to just blow your fucking head off."_

You almost snorted at those words as you crept closer to the voices. You saw Tommy kneeling down, his gun laying far away from him that he couldn't possibly reach as one man was holding his gun to his face and the other three were chuckling. You mentally took a note of how many men there were – there were _four_. Tommy was definitely outnumbered if we weren't counted and he was helpless. Just then, your girls emerged from the other side and you held up your hand towards them, stopping them from firing just yet.

_"Didn't expect you to be so dim witted, Shelby. Coming here alone, without a bloody backup, just inviting others to fucking butcher you like meat. Any last wishes, you shit?"_

"Yes! Devil's Angels send their regards." Your voice boomed through the room as you stepped in, your gun blazing in the air. You squeezed the trigger just then and a bullet shot out of the barrel, so fast, the next minute, the man talking lay on the floor, blood pooling around him, smoke still bellowing out of your gun. The funny thing was, the other three men just looked on, like amateurs, their eyes widened with fear and before they could pull out their guns and shoot, one of your girls had shot one of them, leaving the other two a chance to run off. 

"We're fucking going after them." Your girl said and you nodded. 

"Be careful." You muttered back as you saw them run out after them, leaving you with a bloody Tommy Shelby. His face was coated in blood, making it hard to see his complete face and his arm was hunched to a side, blood soaking his sleeve.

He looked up at you and lowered his eyes, his hand moving to the bloody gash on his arm as he examined it. 

"When are you going to stop going on these kinds of suicide missions?" You muttered under your breath and walked up to where Tommy was, kneeling down in front of him as you examined him. "You feel anything broken, apart from that heart of yours?" You let out a weak smile and he just flicked his passive gaze on you for a bit before it finally softened to a degree. 

"My bloody nose feels like it's on fire, but I think I'll live." Tommy stated. 

"Too bad." You commented as you reached out to place your index finger cautiously on his chin, lifting his face up so you could see his nose. "Broken, definitely." 

"Who sent you?" Tommy suddenly asked, causing you to pull your hand away. 

"Doesn't matter, I fucking saved your life, a simple thank you would have sufficed." You retorted, still kneeling down in front of him. "And before you bloody start forming illusions in your mind, I didn't do this for you, I would have loved to watch them shove their bullets into your skull, trust me, Tommy." 

"Must have been Polly, the only one of us that you actually like, eh?" 

You gave him a ghost of a smile. 

"She cares for you, Thomas. You need to stop doing this. Whatever this is. If not for yourself, for your fucking family, for Charlie." You looked down, your gaze falling on your now blood coated hands, the blood of Tommy Shelby.

When you looked up, your eyes fell on his arm wound. "Just grazed, it's not serious." He said, when he followed your gaze to his arm. You nodded and your hand flew to your breast pocket, pulling out a handkerchief. "We need to stop the blood, Tommy. This might sting a bit." 

Giving you a faint nod of his head, he turned away, staring at the wall behind you. You wrapped the handkerchief on his gunshot wound, applying pressure and finally tying a knot, which caused Tommy to let out a grunt.

"You actually came all the bloody way from Birmingham just because Polly asked you to?" You heard the slight amusement in Tommy's voice, causing you to scrunch your nose and push yourself off the kneeling position until you were towering over him, causing him to get back up to his feet to meet your gaze. 

"Yes, I did. Like I said, don't breed any wrong illusions. I did this for Pol and Charlie. That poor child doesn't deserve to lose a father now." You muttered through gritted teeth. When Tommy didn't reply, words spat of your mouth like a cannonball, "I'm not like you Tommy, I will actually do things for the people I care. Unlike you, who was busy enjoying a wedding reception while I was fucking being tortured in a basement." 

The way Tommy's eyes widened, in rage, was enough to tell you that you had successfully managed to irk him. He suddenly grabbed your arm with his uninjured hand, his nails digging into your flesh as he took a step closer, "for the love of God, get over it. I had no fucking idea you were being _tortured_ in some basement somewhere." 

"Consider this a bloody payback for how you _saved_ my fucking life at the races. Now we're done, we're even." You snarled, all your pent up anger and frustration slowly coming out. The more you listened to him, the more angry you grew. 

"We're done? Oh we were bloody done a long time back." Suddenly Tommy turned around, causing you to look up sharply as he started walking towards the door to leave. However, when he reached the door, instead of walking out and slamming it to your face, he slammed it shut and bolted it from the inside, causing your breathing to hitch. 

In that instant, with the speed that Tommy had walked towards the door, with even faster speed, he was back until he was standing in front of you, his bloody eyes looking down into yours. His hand flew to your waist, grabbing you, but it was far from gentle, it was raw and rough, as he pulled you to him, your frontal body colliding with his. 

As if this wasn't enough, his lips crashed against yours, kissing you with a sense of urgency, his teeth biting you as he kissed you. What was worse was, you found yourself kissing him back, just as roughly. 

When suddenly, he broke the kiss, licking his lips, a faint smirk playing on his lips, "What you said earlier, you bloody do things for people you care about. Should I take it as a way of you telling me you actually care about me?" 

"Fuck you, Tommy, I hate you, there's nothing in this world that can change that." 

Then, you kissed him. This time you did, curling your hands into the back of his head, your fingers entangling themselves in his hair, as you desperately kissed him, _and he kissed you back._


	6. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sexual Content Warning. Read at your own risk lmao.

Your eyes closed and rolled back in the back of your head as you felt Tommy's lips ravage yours, his tongue sliding through the opening between your lips dancing with your tongue for a bit. You gently shoved him away, breaking the kiss. He was getting to you and you were letting him, you had to stop before he took over completely.

"This doesn't mean anything." You murmured, your fingers flying up to your lips, feeling the moist on them and he gave you a faint smile, as he lowered himself on the couch, sitting back. 

"You need a doctor, Tommy." 

"I'm fine." He stated and you rolled your eyes.

You had to wait for your girls to come back so you walked up to the window and fixed yourself next to it, pulling out a box of cigarettes from your pocket. Placing one between your lips, you lit the end, the end glowing a pale orange. Inhaling the smoke, you lowered the cigarette and holding it, you walked up to the couch and hoisted yourself next to him, his fingers reaching your cigarette, plucking it from your hand and to his lips. 

"There's rumours going around, you're Alfie Solomons' woman now. Is it?" He asked you, his voice emotionless.

You turned towards him, your eyebrow raised as you reached for the cigarette and plucked it from his lips, taking a drag of it and shook your head, "Why? It bothers you?" He didn't reply, staring blankly at the wall in front. You stood up from the couch, and walked up to the window, fixing yourself by it as you smoked the cigarette, smoke blowing from your lips as you exhaled. 

"Does he bloody make you feel this way?" Your head shot towards him as you saw him slowly rise from the couch and with slow steps, walk towards you. 

"It's none of your fucking concern, Shelby." You spat. "And what way are you exactly talking about?" 

It was getting tense again, you could feel it. The anger was rising inside you, which would definitely make Tommy angry. It was a fact now, you and Tommy couldn't be in a room without fighting. 

"Who are you fucking kidding, (Y/N)? You came all the bloody way from Birmingham just for Polly? I don't believe that bloody shit." Tommy snarled, making his way up to where you were standing, plucking the cigarette from your hand. 

"Oh you think I did it for you. You and your petty illusions amaze me." You smiled at him, but stopped smiling when his red, swollen eyes met yours as a warning. 

"You're lucky you are beautiful, otherwise I would have sliced through that sharp tongue of yours." Tommy's hand was on your throat, pushing you back against the wall, holding you in a chokehold, not too tight for you to be unable to breathe, but not too lose to be able to jerk his hand away.

"You've been bloody threatening me for ages now, I'm bored of it. You never actually do anything." Venom escaped your throat along with momentary coughs when Tommy's grip on your throat got tighter. Tommy loosened the grip on your throat and almost took a step away. However, when you felt he will walk away, he did the unthinkable. He took a step close, placing both his hands on the wall on either side of you, pinning you to the wall, his blue irises staring into yours. "I need to touch you." 

Maybe you had heard it wrong, maybe it was all in your head but the words were enough to let loose of something inside you. It was like a waterfall of emotions, of lust, of _desire_. You couldn't deny the pull you felt towards Tommy Shelby. You wouldn't lie if you hadn't thought about this moment. He irked you, he made you mad, he was insane and he always pushed your buttons, but that didn't stop you from wanting Tommy Shelby, deep down. 

"You're hurt, Tommy." 

"Don't care." He mumbled. 

You closed your eyes for a brief moment and when you opened them, Tommy was looking down at you, waiting for you to either give him a heads up or to stop him completely. He wasn't like that monster who had raped you multiple times while he simply could have done that. 

You suddenly leaned forward and brought your lips to his, slowly pressing them together, your fingers gripping the back of your head. Tommy let out a grunt while he kissed you back, his hands sliding under your shirt as his warm fingers grazed against your cold skin, "You're freezing." He whispered, and you nodded, clearing your throat. 

"Its snowing outside, unexpected right?" You smiled. 

He shut you up again as his lips now trailed against your jaw, planting soft, wet kisses all over the nape of your neck. 

"Tommy." You whispered his name, your eyes rolling back at the back of your head as his lips came in contact with your flesh. 

"What do you want?" His voice rang through your ears, nothing but a mere whisper, full of desire. You could feel his hands cupping your breasts, his fingers grazing against your cold pointed nipples and you knew he was very much aware how you wanted him too. He just wanted you to say it.

"You. I want you." You whispered, as your hands fumbled with to take off his already torn shirt and his hands struggled to pull your skirt up. As your lips met again, Tommy's hands found their way down to your arse, kneading it with his fingers. You both knew you didn't have much time, the girls would be back any minute. But that didn't stop either of you. 

He pushed you down against the backrest of the couch, so that your arse was in the air and your head was where you couldn't see him anymore. You closed your eyes as you felt him peel off your underwear with his adept fingers and you wondered if he had been with any woman ever since Grace died, or if you were the first one. You heard the sound of the rustling of his pants as he stepped out of it, and then you felt his bulge press against your core, shudders erupting inside your body as you felt his firmness against you, your core already throbbing with need. 

"You're sure?" He confirmed. 

"Yes, I am. Please Tommy." You whispered. 

That was enough confirmation for him, and even though you knew this was not how you wanted to do this, this felt just right. Tommy suddenly pushed himself into you, and you let out a loud whimper, biting down on your lower lip from letting yourself from crying out. 

"Fuck." Tommy cursed, his eyes on your arse as he adjusted his length inside you. "You feel so good," his fingers digging into your hips to hold you there. 

His head fell back and he let out a grunt, as he pulled himself out of you and slid himself back in with force, causing you to cry out in pleasure. 

"Fucking hell, Shelby." You hissed, as you felt him hold on to you even tighter than before and his thrusts increase in pace and intensity inside you. Your eyes rolled back in pleasure and you suppressed the urge to cry out when his cock slid in and out of you, hitting your g-spot every time he did that. 

"Fuck, (Y/N), fucking amazing." He grunted as he pounded into you, mercilessly, occassionally reaching out and grabbing you by your hair as he fucked you from behind. 

It wasn't long before you knew you had crossed the limit of your pleasure and you were shivering with ecstacy, your juices releasing as he thrusted into you, again and again and you finally cried out his name. "Fuck, Tommy. Fuck." And that was what was needed to tip him over his edge. You felt his cock twitch and pulsate inside of you and you felt his warmth fill up your canal as his cock finally softened. 

You both were quivering and shaking now and it was kind of intriguing how he was so badly injured and yet was able to enjoy this moment of intimacy, with you. He gently pulled out of you and pulled up his trousers while you stood up from the position on the couch, your legs shaking as you tried to stand straight. You had fallen had Tommy not caught you by your waist at the right time and you clung on to his shoulder for support, your emotions all haywire. 

"I hope you don't regret this later." He whispered, causing you to bite your lip. 

"And if you do?" You asked him.

"I won't. This was amazing." He said to you, still holding on to you. 

You wanted nothing more than to stay in his arms right now but you also knew Tommy needed medical attention. You pushed yourself away from him, and bent down to slide your underwear back up. 

"Let's get dressed, we're leaving." You mumbled as you bent down to lift your coat that was laying on the floor.

When you looked up, Tommy was staring at you.

"What?" You asked him. 

"We just fucked, yet you cannot even stay in the same room as me for long. Why?" 

His words pierced through your heart like an arrow aimed right at it and an exhale left your lips.

"Tommy." You whispered, unable to meet his gaze, "your words are fucking echoing through my mind. Again and again. You remember what you said at the races? You said, I chose Grace over you because she is a far better woman than I am. You fucking chose to insult me, I was fucking holding my dead child in my hands, atleast you should have spared me the scorn that day."

Tommy sat down on the couch, sinking into it, his shoulders now drooping. His fingers shuffled through the contents of his trouser pocket in an attempt to pull out his cigarette box as he said, "karma's already fucked me up as you can see. Grace is fucking dead. I'm alone." 

"I never wished that for you Tommy. Never ever. I wanted you to be happy. Always. But you. Was it fun watching me suffer? Did it fucking bring joy to you watching me cry for my dead baby? You're a fucking arse, Tommy Shelby, you always will be." You forced yourself to look away as you didn't want him to see the fresh tears in your eyes. You didn't want him to see you were crying and you were weak. But you were only human. You closed your eyes hot tears sliding down from your cheeks. 

"(Y/N)." 

"Let's go, Tommy, before more men come back."


	7. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tommy Shelby's a fluffball in this one.

You were back in Birmingham, unscathed and what was even better was that your girls had managed to shoot those two motherfuckers who had escaped and now there was no way Father Hughes could know that it was the Devil's Angels that had helped Tommy escape. There was no way he would come for you or your girls, but even if he did, you were always prepared, to fight. You sat in your office, skimming through the contents of your files, trying to do the math and the accounts, trying to figure out how much profit you had earned the past week from your dealing in arms and ammunition. You brought the lit cigarette to your lips, puckering your lips around it, kissing it's tip and inhaling when there was a knock on the door. 

"Come in." You said. 

The door flung open and Alfie, who was back from London three days after you had returned, stepped in. His eyes were red, and his lips were pressed in a firm line and this was enough to tell you he wasn't in a good mood. You were also guilty, you knew Alfie loved you and yet, you couldn't bring yourself to feel the same way about him. You couldn't let Tommy Shelby go.

"What is it?" You snapped, without wanting to and you instantly felt bad, softening your tone a bit. "Jesus, Alfie, these files are messed up." 

"Thomas Shelby is waiting outside. He said he wants to talk business." 

Your eyes flew wide and your lips parted, your mind going back to the intimacy you shared a few days back in London, heat already pooling up in your core, causing you to press your feet tightly together under the desk. 

"Since when are we doing _business_ with the Peaky fucking Blinders?" His voice was laced with sarcasm. 

"I thought I made the business decisions and you just reaped the bloody profits along with me. Since when have you started questioning me?" You stood up, your chair grazing against the floorboards as you pushed it back. 

"Is this how it is now? You've stopped consulting me?" Alfie walked up to you, his fists clenched tightly by his side. 

You shook your head, bringing your cigarette up to your lips and taking a drag of it, then tapping on it to drop the ash into the ashtray. 

"I have no fucking idea what _business_ he's talking about." You simply stated. "But I don't think we shouldn't hear what he has to say." 

Alfie parted his lips to say something but he immediately clamped his mouth shut, his eyes darting from you to the cigarette pressed to your lips. 

"You want me here?" He asked. 

You nodded faintly, "You can stay if you'd like." 

"I like how you nicely put it out for me how you don't want me to be here. Well, I'll send him in." Before you could reply to his venom coated words, he was gone, the door slamming shut, sound of his footsteps retreating away. You took this moment to run up to the bathroom attached to your office, placing yourself right in front of a mirror as you looked at yourself in it, running your hands through your messy hair, trying to look decent, and not a mess. 

You were still in the bathroom when you heard the door open and someone walked in. You took a minute to compose yourself, holding the sink in front of you for support. When you were ready, you pulled on your business face and stepped out, your eyes falling on Tommy as he craned his neck to see you. He was sitting on a chair opposite yours, his elbows resting against your desk. 

"Tommy." You nodded, "I didn't think you wanted to do business with us." 

"Get dressed." He stated, his voice cold, as usual, making a frown crease over your forehead. 

"Excuse me?" You muttered, your hands flying to your hips. 

"You heard me." 

"Where the fuck are we going?" You walked up to him, looking down at him as he simply looked up at you, unbothered by the harshness in your tone. 

"To attend to business." As his words escaped his lips, he stood up from where he was sitting and now he was face level with you, his hot breath almost falling over you. You wanted to reach out and grab him, have him pin you down against your desk and fuck you till you both were dry. 

"I'd need a better explanation than that, Shelby." You crossed your arms defiantly over your chest. 

"I want to show you something. Just wear something warm, there's a lot of snow outside." 

His words were enough to shut down any questions that were gnawing at the back of your mind. You knew he wouldn't answer even if you pestered him about it. You knew Tommy Shelby like the back of your hand, even if you didn't want to. Letting out a soft sigh, barely audible, you pulled out your trench coat that was hanging on the coat hanger. You slid your arms through its sleeves, wrapping the coat against your body. 

"Your lover's outside. Let him know he won't be needed anymore today." Tommy said, causing your nostrils to glare in anger. 

"Be nice. That man has stuck with me more than you ever have. I wouldn't have you talk shit about Alfie Solomons in front of me." You hissed through gritted teeth, only to get a low growl like sound to escape from Tommy's mouth, followed by a sarcastic laugh. 

"You didn't remember Alfie when I fucked you till you called my name." 

"You're just a cocky motherfucker." You spat. 

"And you just swear like a motherfucking sailor." He smirked. 

He was teasing you. You looked away, groaning as you didn't want him to play with your mind like he already had started doing. 

"Are we leaving before I change my bloody mind?" You asked, your gaze falling down to your hands in an impatient manner.

"Let's go." You heard him say as he walked up to the door and pulled it open, his eyes meeting Alfie's, who was right outside the door, watching it. You wondered how much of the conversation he had heard but you were going to deal with it later. You followed him out, pausing in front of Alfie, "I have some business to attend to, Alfie, please take over till I'm back?" 

"Right." He said, dryly, moving past you, deliberately brushing his shoulder against you as he went into your office and the door slammed shut. 

"What's his fucking problem?" Tommy asked, pulling you out of your daze. 

"You really want to know?" You gave him a coy smile before getting back serious again, "you." 

You and Tommy walked out of your apartment and office, your eyes falling on his motorcar that was parked just outside. As you walked up to it, Tommy pulled the passenger side door open for you, waiting for you to get in. You didn't pass any snarky remarks and hopped into the car, sinking into the seat as Tommy walked over to the other side and got in, slowly starting the engine as the motorcar started to move forward. 

"Are you going to tell me where are we going?" You asked, now getting impatient. It annoyed you how silent he was, although you knew he wouldn't lead you to danger, but your curiosity was causing your heart to palpitate. The motorcar sped through streets, the route familiar to you and finally, you felt him slowing down on a very familiar street. 

"We're here." He announced. 

You looked around, a quizzical expression on your face. The motorcar had come to a halt outside the cemetery. 

"We're doing business in a fucking cemetery? Tell me you're joking, Shelby." You muttered under your breath, getting off the motorcar as Tommy had already gotten out. Closing the door behind you, you walked up to where Tommy was standing, in his trench coat and a Blinder cap fixed to his head, his back turned towards you and his eyes were fixed on the entrance to the cemetery entrance.

You could never forget this place. This was the place you had buried your dead baby to the ground that day at the races. Whatever Tommy was doing, you knew he was scratching up your old wounds by bringing you back to this place. You felt guilty because you had never mustered enough courage to come visit the grave. It was as if you had tried to suppress the hurt in a corner of your heart, locking it up and had tried to move on. 

Tommy suddenly took your hand and he started walking with fast paced steps into the cemetery. 

"What the fuck?" You protested, trying to pull your hand away from his but his grip was strong and he wasn't in the mood to stop and argue with you. He kept walking, tagging you along with him until he finally stopped walking, his eyes lowered, and your eyes moist and cloudy your lower lip trembling when you saw a beautiful gravestone in front of you which read _Isabella_.

You blinked rapidly, trying to remove the sheen of tears that coated your eyes, hot tears sliding down your cheeks. You had never given her a gravestone, she was just a pile of dust when you left, more so because you didn't have the courage to come back here again. At first, you didn't understand anything, until finally, it clicked. 

"You.. You gave her a ..gravestone?" You almost choked on the sob that was lodged inside your throat as you looked at the man standing next to you. "I don't...understand. I .. You even got her name inscribed. I didn't even tell you what I named her. Then how?" 

Tommy let out an exhale, and you saw from the corner of your eye as he ran his hand through his hair, fixing his cap properly. "I said some things to you at the races I still regret. I didn't have the bloody courage to look you in the eye and apologize. I followed you that day, when you came here to bury your baby. I saw you break down, I heard you call her Isabella." 

"Tommy, I– " It was all so confusing, so overwhelming, you were at a loss for words. "I don't understand why." Your voice was barely audible and you knew you were shaking like a leaf, even though you were covered in heaps and heaps of clothes. Yet, you felt cold. "I abandoned her. I never visited her again, I couldn't bring myself to. She must have been so lonely, she must bloody think her mother is so selfish." You knelt down in front of the gravestone, reaching out, placing your hand on the stone, closing your eyes. "But you visited her." You turned towards Tommy who was silent, just looking at you, his eyes soft. "You visited her when I couldn't, when I _did not_." 

From the corner of your eye, you saw Tommy walk up to you. He stood towering over you for a few seconds and then he lowered himself in a squatting position on his heels next to you, reaching out for your hand. You let him take your hand, entwining your fingers with his. 

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry for the things I've said to you, I'm sorry for fucking up so many times I've lost count. I've always disappointed you and you have still always come for me, even though you could always had turned your back on me." He whispered, holding your hand. "You never were selfish, I was. I was the selfish one, always leaving broken pieces behind me. And you were there to bloody pick them up." 

You gave him a weak smile, looking down at your hand that was in Tommy's. 

"We're not different, Tommy. We're both broken, beyond repair." You whispered, the faint smile still drawn over your lips. You lowered yourself more comfortably on the ground, bringing your knees up to your chest and Tommy sat down too, his one leg spread out in front of him while his other was folded at the knee, his arm resting on his upright knee.

"I'm sorry you lost Grace, I've never wanted that." You whispered, stroking over the skin of his hand with your thumb. 

"I know you never wanted that but I've made peace with it now. She's gone, and she's never coming back. And I'm here, still bloody here and I've a long way to go, a son to raise." He was speaking to you but his eyes were distant, staring at the horizon in front of him, the setting of the sun. Slowly, biting your lip, you slowly shifted to your left, closer to Tommy and laid your head down against his shoulder. He didn't flinch or push you away. 

"I don't doubt on that, I think you can do it, you have it in you." You softly spoke, your eyes fixed on the gravestone of your daughter. 

"It gets bloody difficult at times. I feel I want to give up. Sometimes, I wish I died at the Somme, or died by the bullet that took Grace's life." You closed your eyes at Tommy's words, your heart heavy with grief. When you opened them again, you pushed yourself upright and turned to look at him, his hand still in yours. 

"I'm glad you didn't die at the Somme, had you died, I wouldn't have met you." 

"Which you now regret." He gave you a weak chuckle that you were forced to retaliate. Tommy gently pulled his hand away, to pull out a box of cigarettes from his pocket. He handed you one, and you gladly took it, watching him fix one between his own lips. The sound of the match lighting filled the air, a soft warm glow forming around you as Tommy brought the lit match closer to you and you lit your cigarette. 

"I did but that's in the past." You whispered. "I would have hated you, Tommy Shelby, if I didn't know how you are only rough around the edges. Fuck, I don't believe I'm saying this.." You smiled through your tears, "but you're actually soft at heart." 

"I would appreciate you keeping this revelation a secret. I have a business to run." He said, his voice stress free and you laughed. It felt as though you had laughed like this after ages. This wasn't a forced laughter, it was filled with joy. 

Your lips curved into a lopsided grin and you ran your hand through your hair, "they'll think Thomas Shelby's getting weak, eh?" A sudden, comfortable silence overtook you both as you sat there quietly, staring at your dead daughter's gravestone when suddenly, he turned towards you, bringing his palm to your face, grabbing a loose strand of your hair and tucking it behind your ears, his voice merely a whisper, "I've made a mistake once, I don't want to repeat it again. I'll bloody protect you with my life if required, (Y/N), no matter where you are, how far from me. I'll bloody be there."

You gave him a smile and nodded. 

Tommy Shelby had earned your forgiveness and somehow, had won your heart. Now all you wanted was to tell him how much you loved him. But you didn't. You didn't say anything; you didn't want to ruin it. Now that everything was slowly starting to get better you couldn't ruin it.


	8. Chapter 7

You looked at yourself in the mirror. Your eyes were sunken and you had bags under your eyes. Being a gang leader was difficult, much _difficult_ than you had ever imagined. It didn't leave a room for you to appear weak– no matter _what_ the situation was. No wonder Tommy never showed his real side; the side that actually cared for people. It was only reserved for a few.

Your eyes trailed over the scars on your body, most of them from the torture that Edmund Moore had done to you, but some of them fresh and recent. You had knife scars on your chest, on your stomach, something that reminded you of the countless times you were engaged in a scuffle with men from other gangs that you often dealt with. These were your battle scars – although you were proud to have them on you, they sometimes made you feel conscious.

Your body wrapped in a towel, water still dripping off, you stepped out into your warm bedroom, walking up to the bed where your black dress lay, the pads of your feet grazing against the soft carpeted floor. You were meeting with Polly and Ada today and you were excited to see them both after so long. 

You put your black dress on, pulling up the zipper on the side; staring at yourself in the mirror. Your scars made you feel conscious at times, causing you to refrain from looking at them. You tried to hide them under the fabric of your dresses– not wanting anyone to look at them.

Lowering yourself on your vanity, your hands flew to your hairbrush. In gentle strokes, you combed your hair until not a hair was out of place. You coated the bags under your eyes under a layer of powder and applied some lipstick to your dry lips.

You had sent off all your girls to enjoy themselves; call it a day's off and they were free to do whatever they felt like, having the house all to yourself. You walked up to the front door when you heard the rapping on the door.

Ada and Polly were standing on your doorstep, a warm smile plastered to their lips; Charlie squirming in Polly's arms. 

"Jesus, you two. I've missed you." You embraced the younger woman at first, wrapping your arms around her neck. 

"How's Karl?" 

"Growing too fast," You heard her say as you pulled back from Ada but your eyes were still on her.You then moved on to Polly, embracing her from her side, your palm flying up to Charlie's cheek and squeezing it gently as you spoke, "I see you brought this little man over."

"His governess didn't turn up today. We were bloody worried we'll have to cancel our little reunion." All eyes were on Charlie, who was drowsily rubbing his tiny palms over the dockets of his eyes. 

"It's alright, Pol. My house is too lonely; it would do me good to have a baby around the house for a change." 

Your eyes met with Polly's and you saw a sparkle in them; a motherly smile fixed on her lips as she nodded and both Ada and Polly stepped into your parlor. The fireplace had been lit and the room was warm and cosy. 

An hour passed and the three of you were sprawled on the carpeted floor of your parlor, Charlie perched on your thigh as he played with the trinkets on your wrist. Ada and Polly were sipping whiskey in a glass as the three of you talked about life in general and how much had changed since the last time when you worked for the Shelby's. It was a relief to you when neither of the two talked about the sudden proximity between Tommy and you; it was good they didn't know. 

"Look at your cheeks, I wanna eat you up, little man." You cooed at Charlie, who was staring up at you with his sparkling blue irises; just like his father's. That's when it hit you, people said that Charlie looked like Grace; so much so that Tommy spent less and less time with his son, only because he reminded him of Grace. You, however, felt that Charlie was a replica of his father; he had the same eyes, the hair and his little chin that resembled that of Tommy's. You smiled down at him as you watched Charlie curl across your chest, his tiny palms flying up to his eyes as he rubbed them drowsily. 

"You're good with him." Ada commented suddenly, causing you to sharply turn towards her. 

You saw a look pass between Ada and her aunt, causing you to narrow your eyes at them in suspicion. You hated when the Shelby's acted like this. It wasn't just these two, you had seen John and Arthur do this, Tommy do this, passing looks amongst each other that caused you to wonder if they were mentally talking about you. 

"What's with the look?" You questioned Polly; causing her to shrug her shoulders and reach out for her box of cigarettes. She pulled out a stick and brought it up to her lips, lighting it. 

"Charlie worries me. He's too young to be treated like this. His father bloody neglects him, it's not the poor child's fault he looks like his mother." She mumbled; her eyes slightly widening when you interjected her.

"What's with everyone bloody saying he looks like Grace? When I see him, I see Tommy in him."

You didn't realise how Polly was looking at you. She had awe in her eyes and a smile playing on her lips. She was watching you curiously; watching how your eyes had lit up when you had mentioned that Charlie was a mini me of Tommy Shelby but she kept it to herself, not wanting to freak you out.

You were so distracted, having a chat with the two women, you didn't realize when Charlie fell asleep in your arms. When you looked down, you saw him laying on your chest, his fingers curling a lock of your hair, his drool all over his lips and your dress; but you didn't mind. You used your handkerchief to gently wipe Charlie's lips and hoisted yourself carefully off the floor, not wanting to wake him up, "I'll put him in my bedroom." 

Polly and Ada watched you leave, holding Charlie in your arms and then she turned towards Ada. 

"Did you speak to Tommy?" Ada asked her. 

Polly nodded and sat back more comfortably, bringing the cigarette up to her lips as she took a drag of it. She then started telling Ada of her chat with Tommy two nights back –

_"Jesus, Tommy, for how long are you going to bury yourself in piles and piles of work and pretend that everything's fine?" Polly scolded her nephew for probably the third time that day. He had done it again, neglecting his son all day long, not even going up to his bedroom to check up on him and remain cooped up all day long in his study._

_As usual, Tommy just looked up at her, his eyes staring at her through his round glasses and then he started looking back down to the file that he was reading._

_"Everything's fine; I don't know why you think it isn't." He shot back._

_Polly just shook her head, walking up to the liquor cabinet as she filled an empty glass with whiskey to the brim._

_"You need a wife, Tommy. It's been months since Grace died. What you need is a woman in your life. And a mother, in your son's life." She lifted the glass to her lips, taking a sip of it, her eyes fixed on his nephew._

_"Pol, No." Tommy simply looked up from his files, this time his gaze fixing on Polly, all his attention towards his aunt, "I'm tired of having this bloody discussion with you. Why can't you bloody let things be how they already are and not complicate them? Charlie's not alone, he has a lovely governess and the entire family."_

_"Having a family is not equivalent to having a mother's love, Tommy." Polly frowned, "I'm not taking a bloody no for an answer, Tommy. You need to stop being so fucking selfish all the time. Have you seen the effect all of this has on poor Charlie; that kid has forgotten what's its like to laugh. And he's not even two yet. Shame on you if you can't keep your own child happy, Tommy."_

_Tommy let out an audible groan and pushed himself up from his chair, slamming the file shut._

_"Do you have anyone in mind?" He asked his aunt; watching how her lips curved into a smile._

_"I know just the perfect woman for you, Tommy," Polly didn't wait for Tommy to reply, she was already out of the study, her feet walking in a fast pace towards her bedroom, her mind already at work. She pushed the door to her room open and found herself walking towards the desk by the window. Lowering herself on it, she opened the writing pad and pulled out a pen and ink._

_She then started writing a letter, to (Y/N), that she and Ada were coming over to meet her, in two days time._

-

"I don't– Polly, are you bloody _out of your mind_?" You were glaring at the woman in front of you, but she seemed unfazed by your outburst. "Me and Tommy? A marriage – that's impossible." You spat. 

You three were sitting on a round table, Polly in front of you, Ada to your right. 

Polly arched her body forward, placing her elbows against the table's surface and her lips parted; a weak exhale shooting out. 

"I can't watch him throw his life away, I love him. He may be just a nephew, but I've always loved him like my own son." Her words ended with her reaching forward until she had taken your hand in hers. "I know it's a lot to ask, I don't bloody blame you, love. I know it must be overwhelming for you. But please try to keep yourself in my shoes and then see, do you think I'm wrong? In wanting Tommy and Charlie to be under the care of a woman who knows them?" 

You shook your head at her; in disbelief. "Jesus, Pol, just because I know Tommy so well, doesn't mean I want to be his wife. I – A lot of things have happened between us in the past, and most of them aren't good." 

"Yet you risk your life for that man every time he does anything reckless," Ada commented, bringing a cigarette up to her lips, causing you to fix your sharp glare on her. 

"(Y/N), not every woman can handle my nephew. He isn't like the others, he has his own bloody demons he's fighting, the war's bloody fucked up his mind; and then Grace died, the woman he had grown to love. He's broken which is why, he's dangerous. The only woman that can handle Tommy is a woman who's just like him – _broken, dangerous_ and just as _stubborn_ as he is."

You sat back, your hands running through your hair. This was all too much for you to comprehend. Your mind drifted to the baby sleeping in your bed, and then Polly's words rang through your mind. He needed a mother. _And you needed a child, to replace the gaping hole in your heart._

Maybe Charlie was that piece of a puzzle, the only one that was missing from your life. _Maybe you and Charlie Shelby were meant to be._


	9. Chapter 8

The moment had passed by faster than what you had imagined it to be – one moment, you were walking down the aisle in your white satin wedding dress, clinging on to Polly's arm. The next minute, you saw Tommy Shelby lift your veil, his eyes slightly widening in awe when his eyes fixed on your angelic face. It was playing again and again in your mind, the minute when you and Tommy said, "I do", binding the both of you into something that was going to be with you till death did you both part. 

You were in your bedroom, the one you were now going to _share_ with your husband; having retired early from the wedding party that was going on in the lawns of the Arrowe House. You knew Tommy was going to walk in, any minute now and your heart beat like a rapid fast train, your cheeks slightly flushed. 

_Mrs. Shelby_ –

You were starting to love the sound of that.

Your fingers grazed against the fabric of the satin nightgown that you were now wearing, nervously fiddling with your fingers against it, trying your best to cover up the scars on your chest. You didn't like your scars in the mirror, they were ugly. The last time, Tommy hadn't seen them, because he hadn't really stripped you off your clothes, but now, you had to live with him, under the same roof. It was bound to happen eventually, one day, he would see them and he would feel disgusted.

You stepped out of the bathroom, shutting the door behind you, your eyes falling on your wedding dress that lay discarded on the bed. With slow steps, you walked up to the bed, lifting up the dress in your hands and started folding it when you heard a loud guffaw in the hallway outside, causing you to freeze. 

"Don't see why I've got to come back inside anyway, it was bloody fun just dancing outside all night," you heard Michael's voice in the hallway, "besides it's not even my wedding anyway." 

"Thank the Gods, it's not. God bless the woman that will marry you," the voices got louder, this one John's. 

You hurriedly ran up to your trunk, that lay untouched in a corner of Tommy's bedroom and you flung it open, placing your dress inside when you heard it – the sound of the doorknob turning. When you looked up, your face somewhat fell ; it wasn't your husband, it was just your sister in law. 

"What? You've changed into your nightdress already? Bloody hell, the night's just started." 

She looked at the sudden confusion that had taken over your face and suddenly, a smirk broke out against the corner of her lips. 

"Oh, no one told you. The Shelby Wedding Night tradition." She smirked. 

"What tradition?" You frowned at her, squinting your eyes. 

"Well, we don't let the newly weds retire until they've played a game. Come on, they are all waiting down for you." 

"Ada, please – " You whined, not wanting to do this right now. But you knew better. Ada never listened. After all she was one of them, a fuckin' Shelby. 

"For fucks sake, put a robe on, I'm not taking a no for an answer." She huffed, crossing her arms over her chest in an unladylike manner, causing you to finally give up and pull out your robe from inside your trunk and put it on.

You and Ada walked down the flight of stairs, hand in hand. All the Shelby's were gathered in the parlor – John was laying in Esme's lap, his head resting on her thigh, Arthur was sitting sprawled up on a chair by the fireplace, smoking his cigarette and Michael was arguing with Polly about something. Tommy was sitting on a chair in the center, his leg crossed over his thigh, his hand resting on his knee as he spoke to the youngest Shelby, Finn. 

Ada cleared her throat, causing the heads to turn towards you, all their chatters dying down. Polly was smiling at you, while Tommy's brothers were clearly teasing him, his face suddenly turning a bright red – _more with an embarrassment than in rage._

Your eyes fell on an empty chair next to Tommy's and you knew that it had been placed there for you. 

Clearing your throat, feeling their gazes on you, you slowly walked up to the chair, lowering yourself on it, your eyes fixed on the floor. Your head turned to your left, your eyes meeting Tommy's. 

You almost gave him a smile when John's voice suddenly rang out in the parlor. 

"And the bloody drinks are here. Let the game begin. But before we do that, I'll take a minute to explain the rules to our newest family member." John turned towards you and his lips twitched, forming a grin. 

Suddenly, you felt Tommy lean towards you, his voice a mere whisper in your ears. 

"You'll learn to like them, _hopefully_." 

You almost giggled at his words. 

"The rules are simple. Each of us get a bloody glass, of whiskey. The one to finish his drink first gets to question or dare the one who finishes the drink in the end." John kept his eyes on you as he spoke the rules of the game, your frown only widening. You had never been one to socialize like this and this was a first. 

"I don't think she's comfortable, why don't we just let them go?" Michael mumbled somewhere in the room and secretly, you breathed a sigh of relief hoping the rest of the family would agree. 

_A wedding was a tiring affair._

"Come on, Michael. I don't think she is– she is just afraid she'll bloody lose to the Peaky Blinders." John had a hint of playfulness in his voice and a challenge in his tone. He was challenging you.

Suddenly, you stood up, feeling Tommy's eyes; as well as the rest of the Shelby's eyes follow you, as you crossed your arms over your chest. 

"Do I look like a fuckin' chicken to you, Johnny boy? Give me the fuckin' glass. "

Arthur was the first one to break into a fit of laughter, slapping his knees. Then Polly fell to her side , holding her stomach, laughing uncontrollably. And slowly, you were laughing too, along with the other Shelby's. 

"Tommy, it looks like you've got a tough one." John sheepishly ran his hand through his hair and then everyone began lifting up their drinks in their hands.

\- 

You and Tommy walked back quietly towards your bedroom, almost 3 am in the morning. 

Neither of you spoke –

But the silence felt comfortable. 

Tommy pushed open the door and stepped in first, waiting just a tad bit to ensure that you were following him in. You stepped inside, closing the door behind you. 

"They can be a handful," you awkwardly muttered, trying to make small talk while Tommy walked up to the liquor cabinet and started pouring himself a drink. Your body was tired and so was your mind, but sleep was the last thing you had in your mind right now. You sat down against the side of his bed, looking at him, while your fingers fumbled to untie the knot of your robe. Tommy lifted his whiskey glass taking a sip, before slowly walking back to where you were sitting, lowering himself next to you. 

You gave him a weak smile and spoke.

"Remember London? When we pretended to be husband and wife? Who knew it would be in real one day. Bloody hell, it's hard to believe."

Tommy lost his smile, his smile forming a sad look as he brought up his drink to his lips, taking a sip of it, his Adams apple moving as he swallowed it. 

"It's fuckin' funny. You wanted to kill me back then and now you're stuck, married to the same man you hated." 

You lifted your eyes, fixing it on him, your head moving faintly in denial. 

"I loved you." 

Tommy looked up, the corner of his lips curving in a tiniest of the smiles but then it was gone again. 

" _Loved?_ " 

You wanted to take his hand in yours, but you didn't.

"Love doesn't work the way we want it to. It's funny Tommy, how it's love that actually gives us the most pain." 

"I know – I loved Grace, but life _fucked_ it up. Then I started falling for you, but life didn't want that either. Maybe I'm just unlucky." 

The only thing you heard was his confession – _he said he was falling for you._ And here you had been thinking, all this while, that you had only imagined it. 

"We both suffered a lot, Tommy. But maybe, life's given us a second chance – I know, it's bloody going to be difficult. We're both fucking stubborn. We will fucking argue, hell, my first day into this marriage, I already know we are going to have disagreements." This time you both were smiling. 

You pushed yourself closer to him, your shoulder now brushing against him and he turned his head towards you, his blue eyes gazing into yours. 

"Love scares me." He confessed. 

"It scares me too – I'm scared of having my heart broken, by you." You whispered, swallowing the lump forming in your throat. The next minute, however, your sorrows started melting away, as Tommy's lips pressed against yours, slow and uncertain as first. Your hands flew to the back of his head, your fingers burying into his hair, tugging his head backwards as you deepened the kiss, turning it into a growing rhythm. 

"We'll be okay, love," you could make out his words as he mumbled them while kissing you and you smiled between the kiss, slowly lowering yourself to the bed, your husband laying on top of you. 

The next minute, you were wrapped around him, your robe now off, wearing only your nightdress, as Tommy peppered your neck with kisses occasionally nibbling on the nape of your ear. You shuddered with _desire_ , feeling his cold fingers glide against the fabric of your dress, trying to pull the nightdress over your shoulder when it suddenly hit you – _your scars_. 

"Tommy –" You grabbed his palm abruptly, his eyes falling on yours, contracting with worry. 

"Fuck, did I do something wrong?" He was looking into your eyes, his eyes reflecting a hint of hurt in them. 

"No, No. You didn't. It's just –" You sat upright, your hand involuntarily flying up to your shoulder. 

"What is it, love?" 

"I – I –" You forced yourself to meet his gaze, and he saw that there were tears in your eyes. He brought up his thumb to your cheek, grazing it against the tear that fell from it. You opened your mouth, your lips quivering, " I have scars, Tommy. I just –" 

He stiffened, his eyes gazing down at you tenderly. 

"I have them too, you know. Bullet mark – where Kimber shot me. I, uh, will you show me your scars?" 

You nodded. You didn't know why ; but you didn't feel so conscious anymore. You slowly pulled your nightgown off your shoulder, your scars on the chest now visible, forcing you to clench your eyes shut. You only opened them again when you felt his lips press against your scars, causing you to tear up a bit more. 

"You are beautiful, fucking beautiful. And these scars – they show how strong you fucking are." 

That night was different – Tommy and you were one that night, in body and soul. You made love to your husband, not _fucked_ and then you both curled up in bed, next to each other ; his arm wrapped around your now naked body, your nightdress laying forgotten on the floor as he spooned you from behind.


	10. Chapter 9

_Though the birds chirped in the pale blue sky and the sun shone bright in the sky, you knew something was off._

_It was too bright –_

_It didn't feel right when you saw the familiar blonde again._

_She was sitting by the edge of the river, her back turned towards you, her hand moving as she ran her fingers over the surface of the water._

_It wasn't difficult for you to recognize her. You could recognize her through the back of your mind – Grace Shelby._

_At first, you were terrified._

_If she was alive, it only meant one thing – your marriage to Tommy had been a dream._

_You wanted to scream and run away, but you couldn't move, your legs frozen to the spot you were standing at._

_Suddenly, you heard a shrill cry – a whimpering rather. A whimpering of a newborn baby._

_Your hand flew to your heart, rubbing circles over the fabric of your dress, trying to calm the sudden fluctuations. The pain was back; the hollow emptiness that you had felt for a long time now – you craved to hold her again, in your arms. You craved to see her open her tiny eyes and look at you, and you craved watching her grow up._

_Grace was back again, but this time, you saw her clearly, smiling at you. Only, she wasn't alone. You saw her holding a bundle in her arms, the source of the whimpering you had heard earlier._

_"I'm taking good care of her, love. She's mine now. My little angel, Isabella."_

Your eyes flung open but you saw darkness all around. At first, you didn't understand, you were so disoriented, you didn't realize that you had just had a nightmare. It felt so real. It was as though Grace was right in front of your eyes and had you not woken up, you would have been able to touch her, touch your baby. 

You pushed yourself up, propping yourself in a sitting position, your arm flying to your face, wiping the sweat off your forehead. Hugging yourself, you brought up your knees to your chest, resting your forehead on top of your knees, your body still shivering from the aftermath of the nightmare or a _dream_ , whatever it could be classified as. 

After a minute or two, your mind seemed to slowly get back on track and you didn't feel so tormented anymore. You pushed your head back, slowly craning your neck to wake your husband – you saw an empty bed. The blanket on his side was falling off the bed, and the sheets were crumpled. Sliding yourself out of bed, your feet into your slippers, you slowly tumbled out of the bedroom, the hallway lit by lamps. 

The first room you went into was Charlie's – leaning over his cot, making sure that he was properly tucked in before you crept out of the room and found yourself walking towards Tommy's study. You could see that the lights were on.

Placing the palm on the doorknob, you gently turned it, the door opening with a creak. 

Your eyes fell on your husband. He was sitting in his desk, his reading lamp on, files scattered all over the desk in front of him. He was hunched forward, his elbows propped up on the desk and his head was buried into his palms, his face buried. Although you knew he had heard the door open, he didn't react or look up. 

Almost floating into the room, your feet gliding across the marble flooring, you walked up to where Tommy was, fixing yourself next to him. When he didn't look up at you, you let out a barely audible sigh and grabbed the files on the desk, closing them shut and placing them away. 

"Leave, I'm working." His cold – _unemotional_ voice called out to you, causing your body to flinch at the harshness of his words. You knew something was worrying him. 

Reluctantly, you stood next to his chair, towering over him and unknowingly, your fingers entwined in his matted hair, tenderly stroking over his scalp. 

"Tommy, love – _look at me_."

You had expected him to scream at you, insult you and kick you out and honestly, you were prepared for it. However, he did none of those things. Instead, he lifted his head from his palms, slowly bringing up his eyes to meet you. You could see his swollen eyes, his glassy eyes that were reflecting a fear in them. 

"Why aren't you in bed with me?" You whispered, softly. 

He didn't speak. You saw him look away from your eyes for a bit before he leaned into you sideways, the side of his head resting against you. 

"They won't let me sleep, no matter what I fucking do, they find a way to come back." 

You knelt down next to him, your face now almost face level with his. Bringing your palms to his face, you placed either of them on the sides of his face, turning him to face you. 

"I'm here, Tom, I'm not letting them bloody take you away –" 

You closed your eyes, feeling a tear escape through the crevice of them, sliding down your cheek. 

"Its always so bloody dark. There's dust all around, in my eyes, in my bloody lungs. I can't breathe. Then they are coming, I can hear their bloody pickaxes, the clanking, the clawing –" 

You kept holding him in your arms, there was nothing you could say to him, all you could do was listen. He knew you could not help but somehow; he found comfort in your arms. 

"Come to bed with me, Tommy," your voice was a mere whisper, but he heard it, slowly lifting up his eyes and looking at you, giving you a faint nod. 

"I must have really done some good things –" he gave you a faint smile, " – for you to be my wife." 

"No Tommy, you've been an arse." You bluntly replied, causing a wide smile to break out against his lips, and yours as well. 

You watched him as he stood up from his chair, stretching his back slightly, throwing out his palm towards you. You placed your palm in his and his fingers entwined around yours, only to abruptly pull you to him. 

"You're burning up, (Y/N)." 

You placed your palm on his chest, tenderly gliding your fingers across. 

"I'm shaken up." You whispered, "we all have our demons that we are fighting. It's war for you, it's something else for me."

Tommy threw open your bedroom door with one hand, his other arm wrapped around you as he walked you back into your bedroom. The bed dipped when you sat down against it, Tommy sitting next to you. He then moved into bed, ruffling the blanket slightly, patting on the space in bed next to him. You gave him a weak smile and slid into bed with him, Tommy's arm protectively locking you next to him.

"Tell me." 

You let out a weak, shaky sigh and your lip started quivering. You didn't want to tell him about Grace – he had a lot on his plate, you couldn't do this to him.

"I saw my baby. She was crying, her _tiny arms_ were flapping in the air. I wanted to hold her, to take her in my arms. But I couldn't." You pressed yourself against Tommy's chest, his hands stroking the back of your head in a gentle motion, trying to calm you.

He didn't say anything, more so because he probably didn't know what he could say to you that could probably make you feel better but you knew that he understood the pain you were going through, because he was going through the _same_. 

This was one of the things that bound you to each other – _you shared each other's pain_. 

Tommy laid you down in bed, your head gently falling back against the pillow and you felt him pull the blanket over your frame. You felt his tiny movements inside the blanket, trying to adjust himself until he was laying on his side, his face turned towards you, his arm protectively over your abdomen, holding you. You kept staring at the ceiling, blinking numbly, as you kept thinking of what your dream was. 

"Grace has Isabella." Your voice was loud, and Tommy heard you. You knew it because his body stiffened at the mention of _her_ name. 

"Grace? You saw her?" He asked and you nodded, not able to make eye contact with him, your eyes fixed, like stone, to the ceiling. 

"She told me my baby was hers now and that she was going to take care of her."

Tommy's lips parted and a weak exhale shot out of his mouth. He gently pulled his hand away, the one that was resting on your abdomen as he turned on his back, looking at the same ceiling that you were. You regretted telling him this, but you just felt he deserved to know. He had bared out his soul to you, his nightmares to you and you wanted to do it too. 

"Let's get some sleep," Tommy's voice reached you and you instinctively bit your lip, trying to mask the sudden pang of hurt that you felt by his reaction. What did you expect? 

Tommy turned to his side, his back now towards you but his eyes were wide open. He knew something – Grace never left him, she was always with him, with Charlie. But he knew that Grace would be happy, that he was getting a chance to be finally happy, with you again.

-

Charles was two, which meant that you were trying to get him to use his stroller less and less, and use his tiny little feet more and more.

You looked down at your son – his tiny cap, designed in such a way to match the style of the Blinders cap that his father wore – made you give him a warm smile as he looked up at you with his dimpled cheeks, throwing out his arms for you to pick him up. 

"Tired already?" You chuckled as you bent, lifting your son up and fixing him on your waist, running your fingers through his hair, to push them off his eyes. 

It was a beautiful, warmer day in Warwickshire – a day that would have been wasted had you decided to stay indoors. You and Charlie were on your way to feed bread crumbs to the ducks that lived near the pond behind the Arrowe House. Although it wasn't a biting cold, you – being the paranoid mother you were, had made sure that your son was bundled up in a tiny coat and his padded boots. 

"What do you say we go and feed the ducks? You'd like that, ya?" You looked at him, smiling at the excited yes that broke out of his lips, followed by a gurgle and a giggle at the same time, making you laugh at his innocent antics. 

You loved this boy, more than anything, or _anyone_ you had ever loved.

When you reached the pond, you placed your son down on the grass, keeping a watchful eye on him while you pulled out a blanket from the picnic basket you had placed next to him. You spread it out evenly and lowered yourself against it, pulling Charlie into your lap. Breaking the bread crumbs into tiny pieces, you handed them one by one to Charlie who kept throwing the pieces into the water, giggling every time a duck swam over close enough and started throwing out his tiny arms towards it, trying to reach it. 

While you were enjoying a warm afternoon at home with your son, you didn't realize your husband had come home early today, from whichever dealings he went to. 

He asked the governess about where you and Charlie were and she informed him that you had taken Charlie to the pond to feed the ducks. He nodded in her direction, walking into your bedroom, pulling out a fresh clean shirt before he walked out through the back entrance, towards where his _family_ was.

You held Charlie by his waist, holding him tight and secure as he stood by the edge of the pond, his arms outstretched, trying to reach the ducks. 

"Mama, they're scared of me!" Your son exclaimed, the corner of his lips tugging into a tiny frown and you pulled him back into your lap, placing either of his feet on either of your sides. 

"Actually, darling – that duck's only following mama duck's instructions." You told him, looking down at him; while he looked up at you, his eyes widened, with curiousity. "Mama duck's told him not to talk to strangers, just like I tell you everyday." 

"But, I'm not going to hurt it." 

"I know baby." You gave him a ghost of a smile, a sudden relief filling you up when you saw him get momentarily distracted by a beautiful butterfly that sat on the blanket. You slowly looked up from Charlie,your eyes falling on the man leaning by a tree a few steps away, his eyes on you and you smiled at him. 

"Look, your daddy's here." You whispered into Charlie's ears and his eyes flew up, lighting up like a star on top of a Christmas tree, looking at his father – literally vibrating in excitement. 

"How's my little man doing today?" Tommy jogged up to the blanket, falling on his knees next to you, his eyes on his son as he scooped him up in his arms. His eyes flew to you and you gave him a faint nod, and a smile, pulling out a sandwich from the basket that you had placed inside for yourself and the cookies for Charlie, laying it in front of him. 

"Cookies!" It only took a minute for the baby to forget about his father and lunge at the box of cookies, trying to munch on it, as much as his tiny mouth allowed him to. 

"How was your day?" You turned to your husband, watching him take off the round glasses that adorned his face for a split second only to wipe it clean with a handkerchief and then back on his face. He had lowered himself more comfortably on the blanket, next to you, his feet sprawled out in front of him, reaching out for your hand to whisk it in his, which melted your heart. 

"We received an order from Dublin." He stated, fondling with your fingers. 

You raised your eyes, giving him a curious look and the look on your face made him shoot you a smirk.

"An order for twenty seven bloody Remingtons – and twelve hand grenades."

Your own lips curved into a tiny smirk at his words and you nodded. 

You and Tommy ran both businesses simultaneously now – an unspoken agreement between the two of you, when you could have merged both into one. While you were most often at home, taking care of Tommy's son, he was taking care of the Devil's Angels, but you were still in command, just like he wanted. A part of him loved the fact that his wife was a feared gang leader.

"Did you talk to Alfie? We might have some in the godowns." 

Tommy's eyes suddenly grew dark which you knew was at the mention of that name and you bit back on your lip, immediately regretting why you had brought it up in the first place. Lately, Tommy had been speaking to you of how he didn't like Alfie Solomons running your business for you. And Alfie was one of the people you often found yourself arguing with Tommy about.

"Tommy –" You whispered. 

"Why do you bloody insist on letting him take care of your business?" Tommy suddenly spat, ignoring the fact that he was arguing with you in front of your two year old son. It was a relief Charlie was too busy to munch on his cookies to notice and too young to probably understand. You parted your lips but found yourself at a loss for words at his sudden outburst, pulling your hand away from his. 

"Tommy, for fucks sake, can we not do this now? In front of our son?" 

Tommy didn't look away and neither did he pay heed to what you said – his deathly glare pointed towards you, his eyes reflecting his distilled rage as he spoke. 

"You never seem to want to talk on this matter. Oh right, I understand–" He paused for a second, only to speak again, "I bloody think you don't want anyone other than that Alfie to run your business." 

Your hands dramatically flew in the air, making you roll your eyes at him.

"I trust him, Tom, he's been working with me for long now. He's reliable– " 

He cut you off abruptly. 

"Or maybe because he's your ex lover, a man who so clearly wanted to get into your skirt." He said, in a tone almost emotionless his steely, glassy eyes looking at you. 

"How dare you think of me like that, Tommy? You think I care about him?" You stood up, taking your eyes off your son, missing how he was now crawling on his fours towards the pond, after a butterfly who had just sat on Charlie's cookie and flown away when he tried to catch him.

"Oh I think you do." He said, his voice unnaturally calm, his fingers fumbling with the contents of his pocket to pull out his box of cigarettes.

"Stop being a fuckin' arse, Tommy." You hissed at him, watching him as he lit the cigarette and brought it up to his lips, taking a long, lingering drag of it, before passing it to you. You took the cigarette gladly – bringing it up to your lips and nipping it in between, inhaling the raw smoke from it, when suddenly, there was a splashing sound. 

It was as though time had slowed down for you in that second. It took a second more for the sudden horror to reflect on your face. You looked down at Tommy, your eyes although angry, but helpless and carrying excruciating pain. 

"CHARLIE, _fuck_." 

Your bloodcurdling scream seemed to pull Tommy out of a temporary trance, the cigarette dropping from your fingers as Tommy hoisted himself up as fast as he could. You both started running towards the edge of the pond, hoping, _praying_ that he was okay. 

If something was to happen to him, you would blame yourself, and Tommy, for the rest of your life.

When you reached the edge of the pond, your eyes fell on Charlie. He was sitting in the water, at the edge, only his head poking out but he was giggling, splashing his hands around, tossing water into the air. Your hand flew to your chest, making you double over as you reeled out from both, a state of panic and a state of relief.

Tommy, who had been standing next to you, let out a barely inaudible exhale of relief, bending and pulling him out of the water and pressed him to his chest, breathing rapidly. Teary eyed, you looked at your husband, his eyes immediately softening as he ran a calloused hand through his hair, and you stepped closer to them, your family, burying your face into Charlie's back, wrapping your arms around him from behind as he clung on to his father. "I'm sorry." Tommy's voice came out a mere whisper. 

You nodded. 

"He's fine." Your voice quivered, and he nodded, repeating your words back to you again, as he pulled you close to him, his arm wrapping around your shoulder, as he handed Charlie to you, "he's fine."


	11. Chapter 10

Six months passed by in a blink of an eye. 

You wouldn't say being married to the most feared man in England was easy – there were days when you had arguments _so heated_ , it caused you to not step out of your room for a day or two, only to speak to Charlie, and not his daddy. But then, Tommy always came back, although he didn't say the word _sorry_ , he somehow made it up to you by showering you with gifts and things he brought for you as a peace offering.

Tommy was in London, finalizing the deal for your guns and was expected to be back by Saturday, two days from now. 

Although you had Charlie to keep you company, and a countless number of maids – you still felt lonely at times, feeling all alone in the Arrowe House. So, you'd decided to call Polly over for tea. 

Polly sat on the chair, her eyes fixed on you, while you aimlessly stirred your cup of tea with a stirrer, listening to her go on and on about her endless charades when suddenly, she told you to stand up. 

"What?" You looked up at her, your eyes narrowing in confusion. 

"For fucks sake, stand up, will you?" She repeated again, causing your frown to widen. You let out an irritated sigh, tossing the stirrer away, slowly standing up – when suddenly, Polly's hands flew to your breasts, cupping them in her palms, squeezing them slightly, causing a wince to escape your lips. 

"Sore?" She raised an eyebrow and flustered, you nodded at her, pulling yourself away from her jabbing at your breasts. 

"When was the last time you bled?" 

It wasn't hard for you to figure out where she was going with this and this made you think – the truth was, you had no idea when you had last bled. 

"Must have been two months." 

Polly leaned forward, her elbows resting against the surface of your table, eying you. 

"Does Tommy know?" 

Flustered, you bit at the insides of your cheeks, shaking your head, slowly sinking into the chair, wondering how she had found you out without even you telling her about how you felt. This was one of the reasons you had called her over; little did you know she would figure it out by just looking at you. 

"I've never been wrong about these things you know." 

You had lately been feeling off – tired, too tired to even wake up as early as your husband did, when in the initial days of your wedding, you had made it a routine to wake up with him and be the one to make his morning cup of tea, and not one of the maids. There had been countless times when a simple thing such as Charlie's glass of milk caused you to sometimes double over with a wave of nausea that you had waved off as the stomach flu.

"Looking at that, I can only say this was bound to happen one day." Confused, you looked at her, only to find her smiling at you, trying her level best to suppress a giggle that was perhaps, lodged to her throat. 

"Looking at what?" You asked her, skewering your head to one side, trying to get a better view of your husband's aunt. 

"That hideous thing on your neck, love. I thought Tommy was better than that." Polly chuckled, bringing her palm to the cup of tea that lay forgotten in front of her lifting it and bringing it to her lips. Your eyes widened for a second, and when you realized what she was referring to, your face turned a bright crimson, your palm immediately flying to your neck in a desperate, _too late_ attempt to conceal the love bite your husband had so recklessly given you the last night you both were together, before he had left for London.

Flustered, you cleared your throat, it being pretty evident that you wanted to manoeuvre Polly away from eying the mess that your husband had made, so visibly, on your neck, without you knowing it. And, he was definitely going to pay for it once he was back. 

"Pol, please don't tell Tommy yet. I want to be the one to break this news to him." 

Polly gave you a warm smile – as she took a sip of last of her tea, her eyes twinkling with excitement as she nodded affirmatively. 

Now you were waiting for Saturday – when you would be breaking this news out to him. 

\- 

Saturday came by faster than you had anticipated. 

It was around lunch time when you finally stepped into the newly acquired building that the Shelby's were now using as the Peaky Blinders headquarters, their office and the betting shop. 

"Oh, Mornin' (Y/N), long time no see." John greeted you at the doorstep, genuinely happy to see you and you greeted him back.

"I needed a file, John. Tommy must have by mistake brought the Devil's Angels audit file here. Do you know where he might have bloody kept it?" You raised an eyebrow. 

John looked at you for a bit, his mind probably trying to work out to a solution to what you had asked him. 

"Why don't you ask Lizzie? She'll know?" 

You paused, staring at him blankly. 

"Lizzie?" 

John visibly paled, clearing his throat as though he shouldn't have said that. 

"Oh, you didn't know." 

"John. The fuck's going on here?" You said, your voice dangerously low. 

John gave a you a smile – a kinda goofy one, trying to buy himself out through his charm but failed. Instead of feeling amused, you just kept glaring at him, your nostrils almost flaring in anger.

"Uh, well, if you really must know – Tommy's hired Lizzie as his secretary, just recently." 

You had been in Birmingham long enough to know what kind of a woman Lizzie was. It disgusted you, and angered you at the same time, that Tommy had done this, without even bothering to consult you or let you know. 

Was he fucking Lizzie? 

Absentmindedly, your palm flew to your stomach, resting on your non existent baby bump. And John's gaze followed you, until he was looking at your belly and then back at you. 

"You're not.. ?" He asked, sheepishly.

"John, if you dare tell Tommy, I'll kill you." You let out a huff, turning away, forgetting the reason why you had come here. With fast paced steps, you walked out of the building, back towards the Arrowe House.

-

When you stepped back in, you were greeted by a silence in the hallway.

"Miss Morris?" Your voice rang through the hallway, echoing back to you. It was strange for the house to be quiet at this hour. Usually, Charlie was wide awake at this time, his blabbering audible right from the hallway. 

Miss Morris, Charlie's governess, poked her head out from his bedroom, holding his onesie in her fingers. 

"Yes, Mrs. Shelby?" 

"Where is everyone? Charlie? And, is Mr. Shelby back?" You asked her. 

"Mr. Shelby retired to the bedroom, Mrs. Shelby, and Charlie's having a nap." 

You gave her a nod of your head, thanking her for the information, before letting her go back to whatever it was that she was doing inside. You found your way back into your bedroom, your fingers curling against the doorknob as you flung the door open. 

Tommy was sitting by the edge of the bed, his face covered in bruises, coagulated blood coating his chin and the crook of his nose. His hand held a bottle of whiskey and you watched as he brought it up to his lips and took a mouthful of it. 

You ran inside, bolting straight towards him. 

"What the fuck happened?" You looked down at him, immediately lowering yourself next to him, your hand flying to his chin as you examined the cuts on his face.

"Nothing, some fuckin' pricks who decided they wanted to threaten me," Tommy murmured, half chuckling, half wincing in pain, bringing up the bottle up to his lips to chug down the drink. Shaking your head at him, clearly pissed, you brought him a bowl of water and some cloth, sitting down next to him as you gently wiped his face, carefully, as though he was made up of glass.

"Is there going to be a fucking day you aren't going to come home in this condition?" You mumbled, your eyes fixed on the side of his face as you applied an ointment to a gash on his left cheek. 

"You married me, love. You know me better." 

He was right – you knew him. You knew that no matter how hard you told him not to indulge in fights like this, this wasn't going to end. Besides, it was hypocritical of you to want him to come home clean, in one piece, because you had been like him, before getting married. But then, there was another thing that was bothering you – the fact that he didn't talk to you about Lizzie. 

Absentmindedly, you grazed your finger against his wound, causing him to wince and arch backwards in an attempt to get away. 

"For fucks sake, woman." He snapped. 

"Sorry –" Your words came out drier than you had wanted them to be. You looked up to see Tommy looking at you, analyzing you. Hurriedly, as you didn't want to indulge in an argument, not when he was like this, you decided you will leave him to rest. You grabbed the dirty, blood stained cloth, and the bowl that was now red with Tommy's blood, slowly walking towards the door when he called out to you. 

"What did I do now?" 

Your head turned sharply towards him and you opened your mouth to come back with a witty reply, but you didn't. Instead, you just shook your head at him, and walked out of the bedroom. 

-

Afternoon turned to night and you soon realized that you couldn't avoid your husband anymore. Having tucked Charles in his bed, you closed his bedroom door, your feet dragging as you made your way towards your own; hoping Tommy was asleep.

You pushed open the door, as softly as you could, not wanting to wake him up if he was sleeping. When you stepped in, you saw him sitting on a chair, his left leg sprawled out in front of him on the ottoman, a lit cigarette in his fingers. He brought it up to his lips, taking a drag of it, his silhouette peeking out from a mountain of smoke. 

You walked up to the side of your bed, sitting down, feeling the bed dip slightly as your weight pressed to it – struggling to pull a blanket over you. The silence in the room was biting, gnawing and you wanted to escape it. 

"I thought you were planning to sleep in our son's room." Tommy's cold, passive voice reached your ears and you felt an urge to scoff. 

"You'd like that, won't you?" You snapped back at him. 

You watched him as he sighed, rubbing his eyes with the corner of his thumbs, "Care to explain what's gotten you like this today?" 

Silently, you slipped out of the blanket that was covering your lower body, rising out of bed, as you took two steps closer to him. 

"It's funny Tommy – how I went to the office today, and by chance, happened to find out that you have a new secretary, " You accused him. 

"What's wrong with having a secretary? You haven't been of much help lately. And I'm running two bloody businesses while you should be running your own." His jaw clenched in frustration, his cigarette swinging up to his lips, smoke coiling out of his mouth as he inhaled and then let it out. 

"Is this what this is about? Does my being at home, spending time with your son bother you so much? Besides, that's not even the fucking point." You grumbled. 

"Then what the fuck are you implying?" He snapped, clearly irritated.

"What I'm _fucking_ implying is –" Your hands flew to your waist, "–You fucking hired Lizzie as your secretary, the woman you have a fucking history with. Remember how you paid her for a good fuck?" 

You could see the vein pop out on Tommy's eyebrow but you chose to ignore it. If he wanted to lash out at you, he was most welcome, because you sure weren't in the mood to back off. 

"It's fair when you let Alfie run your bloody business but you start acting like this when I hire a secretary," Tommy growled in a low, threatening tone. With one swift motion, he stood up, dumping the cigarette butt into the ashtray before walking up to where you were standing. 

"Oh for fucks sake, Thomas, I've not fucked Alfie, but you've sure as hell fucked that woman multiple times. And I'm sure you're even doing it now. Why else would you not bother to even tell me you needed a _secretary_?" You didn't realize how tears had spilled down your eyes and you could taste the salty taste of your own tears. These were angry tears, tears filled with rage, of pent up frustration.

"Fuckin' hell, (Y/N), I'm bloody tired of this." Tommy's head shook faintly as he pushed passed you, straight towards bed, crashing down on it. "I fucking need help with the files but you can't even bother and get your arse down to the office to help out. What do you expect me to do? Interview a long legion of women and waste my fucking time when I could just hire her and get done with it?" 

Your eyes closed involuntarily at his chide remark, your face trying to mask the expression of hurt that crossed over it. So this is what he thought about you – that you did nothing all day long while you were tirelessly taking care of his son and working backend to keep your business running. 

"You could have asked me, we could have talked about it. I could have helped you find a suitable woman –" 

Tommy's fist suddenly collided with the side table, causing you to flinch, almost take a step back from him and shut your mouth. "Just fucking stop, you are giving me a bloody headache." When you saw him start laying down, fumbling with the blanket, you took a step closer to him, glaring down at him. 

"You want me to come to office, help you out, fine. But coming to office means having to work long bloody hours and meet your fucking Peaky boys every single day. If you want me to do all that, I will do it. But just so you know, Tommy, I'm pregnant and that's why I don't think that is an intelligent idea." You bit back on the curses that were rising in your throat, angrily making your way towards your side of the bed and slamming yourself down on it. 

A weak exhale shot out of Tommy's – just like a deflated tyre. You grabbed your pillow roughly, placing it back in place and slammed yourself roughly against it, keeping your back turned towards him. 

"Can you bloody turn the lights off? I'm trying to rest." 

It wasn't a minute after you had said it, the lights went out and the room was engulfed in darkness. A minute later, you felt arms wrapping around your waist, his palm hovering over your belly, only coming to rest on top of it. 

"I'm not fucking Lizzie – I don't even bloody care about Lizzie." 

You swallowed the lump forming in your throat, your hand slowly moving until you lay it on Tommy's cold palm, the one that was latched on to your belly. 

"I know, Tom. I know you are not, yet, I can't bear to think of her working in the same room as you are. I would keep bloody thinking something's going on, even if there isn't." You turned to your back and then you turned to your side, facing Tommy. Even in the darkness, you could see his bright blue eyes, illuminated by the moonlight falling on him from the window, making him look like a Greek God. "I know I want to bloody come and help you out. The least I can do is help out with the files –" Guiltily, you looked away as at the exact same time, you felt Tommy's lips press to the side of your head, "But Tommy I can't do it. I'm terrified. I've lost my baby once, I can't afford to go through the same pain again." 

A weak sigh escaped his lips – _a sigh full of anguish and pain_ , his hands tightening around your body as though you were going to fly away. 

"You have faced enough in this life, love –"

"We both have." You interjected, listening to him hum in response. 

" – _We_ have bloody faced enough in this life. Maybe now's the time for us to be happy. By the end of this, we'll have to ourselves a healthy, beautiful baby – _girl_ , if I am lucky." His fingers idly grazed over your non existent bump, stroking it in a gentleness you didn't think Thomas Shelby had in him which made you smile. 

"If we do have a girl, I only know how you're going to spoil her rotten." 

Tommy shot you a chuckle. 

"Like you aren't already doing it for our boy." 

Which was true. The bond you shared with Charlie wasn't unknown to the rest. Charlie was always going to be your first child, even if you were not the one to birth him into this world.


	12. Chapter 11

You could hear the shrill wails of your son from the room next door but you were lazy, _too lazy_ to get yourself out of bed on a Sunday morning and tend to him. Of course, you had an excuse. You were pregnant and you were always so exhausted. 

"Tommy– " 

"Mhmm.." His sleepy voice called out to you, and you wouldn't lie – _it was sexy as hell_. 

"Tommy–" A massive yawn broke out against your lips but Tommy still hadn't budged. Instead, he had stuffed a pillow over his face, covering it as the room had started to get brighter now, thanks to the window that shot the rays of the sun through, the minute it rose.

" _Thomas Shelby_ , can you go check on your son?" You called back in the same tone that he had just mumbled in.

"For fucks sake, it's a bloody Sunday–" Tommy sulked like a child at times and this was the moment you actually chuckled at his behaviour, often teasing him about it. You would tell him how there was sometimes no difference between him, a grown man and Charlie, his two year old son. 

By the time Tommy was up, rubbing his eye sockets to push out the sleep, your eyes had fluttered open too. You let out a massive yawn again, turning to your side so you can see him walk out, his footsteps retreating away for a bit only for the wailing to die down. 

A few minutes passed by and the door finally opened, your shirtless husband walking in, holding his son in his arms as he bounced him up and down, making small talks to him. You had pushed yourself in a sitting position by the time he reached the edge of the bed, your back resting against the headboard of the bed, pulling up the covers to cover your body.

"Someone was out of the cot and walking around in the room." Tommy mumbled in a low voice, his eyes fixed on his son. 

"Is that so?" You cooed, shifting slightly to make a little space in bed between you and Tommy as Tommy sat down, laying him in the middle. Your hand involuntarily flew to Charlie's stomach, tickling him in a playful way, watching his lips contort into the biggest giggles.

You laid down slowly, pulling the blanket over you and your son while Tommy just sat with his back pressed against the headboard, a faint smile on his lips as he watched the two of you, until he was once more laying in bed with the sheets covering him waist down, his attention now diverted to Charlie. This gave you a quick moment to reach out for Tommy's discarded shirt and you quickly put it on before joining your husband and your son.

"I hate that Charlie's growing up so fast. I'm going to miss him blabbering in his broken words to us, Tom." You whispered as your husband just hummed in acknowledgement of your words as he pulled Charlie in his lap, placing him on his abdomen, holding him as he giggled happily, trying to reach for his father's face. You turned to your side, resting your head against Tommy's arm, watching him as he lifted Charlie up and tossed him playfully into the air, the child's laughter filling up the room. 

"To think of it, Tom, he will one day grow up and have his own little life, maybe his own family." You smiled, your eyes fixed on how wide he chuckled when he was tossed into the air by Tommy. 

"Love, we're still young, and there are many more of these little ones to come yet." 

You found your cheeks growing hot at his comment and you nodded your head in a humming tune, your hand involuntarily flying to your stomach, your fingers resting on your tiny bump. 

"You think Charlie will adjust to having another little Shelby around once he or she is here?" You whispered. 

Tommy turned to your side, placing Charlie in the middle of you both, carefully as far away as he could from your baby bump, not wanting the baby to innocently end up kicking your belly or hurting you in any way. 

"He's going to love it, love. Hell, I was pretty fucked up at first when John was born." 

Your smile widened as he continued. 

"But then, being a sibling is a good feeling, he might feel a little left out at first, but then he will love being a big brother." 

You felt that life had finally turned the happy way for you and you revelled in that thought – but _if only_ you knew how sadness was lurking right across the corner from you, waiting to charge at you when you were the least prepared.

-

You were back home by the evening and your Sunday routine for evenings was pretty much the same – you would cook a little as you deliberately gave all your maids off on the Sunday, wanting to be alone with your family on this day, which was much against Tommy's protests; while he would fix himself on the carpeted floor of the parlour, reading the newspaper with his glasses on, but his eyes would occasionally fall on his son, as he played around with the toys that you bought for him – this time it being a wooden toy train. 

Dinner was almost ready but today, you still felt a surge of energy in you. And whenever you felt this, you had to take it all out on a chore, otherwise you would toss and turn in your bed all night, waiting for sleep to befall you but it never came. Today, you decided you will arrange the files in Tommy's study – _without him knowing about it of course, as you knew he would make a fuss about you stepping into it._. His study was the only room in the house that was out of bounds for anyone that was not him, if he wasn't already inside. 

Tommy was immersed in reading his newspaper so you picked up a duster, your apron tied around your frame, your tiny pouch of a baby bump poking out from behind it; as you made your way up into the study, being greeted by the smell of nicotine and whiskey, just like Tommy's shirts.

You stepped into Tommy's study, your noise scrunching up in slight annoyance and shock because his study was a mess, which was so not like your husband. There were piles of papers laying in a clutter on his desk and the ashtray overflowing with cigarette butts. 

Shaking your head, a small, weak sigh escaping your lips, you walked up to his desk, reaching out with your palm outstretched as you started sorting out the papers and neatly stacked them all up, placing the penholder on top of it to keep the stack in place. You moved to Tommy's chair, using the duster to carefully dust over it when something caught your eye– his drawer wasn't locked. 

Although you knew you shouldn't have done it, you felt an urge to open it, and look inside. Not that you would have found anything of grave importance. It was a kind of a hidden curiousity in you – you perhaps wanted to know what all was going on while he was at work daily, although he mostly told you everything. 

Maybe you shouldn't have opened that drawer, but you had no clue how a drawer could cause your mind to explode into a thousand fragments, all in one go. You pulled open the drawer, only to find papers stacked in it as well. At first, they didn't seem of much importance to you but as your fingers sorted through the papers, your fingertips brushed against something hard, causing you to pull it out. 

It was a diary, with a brown cover, with initials mentioned on it with gold plating – T.S.

You lowered yourself into his chair, placing the diary in front of you. You had no idea Tommy kept a diary. As much as you wanted to go through it, you knew a diary was something very personal to a person's life. Your mind was telling you not to invade into Tommy's privacy like that, that it was wrong. 

In the end, however, your mind lost the war with your heart and you found yourself turning through the pages of Tommy's diary – or rather, _Tommy's life_. You read through the initial pages, your heart almost feeling heavy when you read about how Tommy had met Grace. Tommy had penned down his hidden feelings for her from the start, talked about the betrayal he felt when she left him. 

It hurt you, you wouldn't lie, when you realized how there wasn't even once that Tommy had mentioned you in his diary. And it broke your heart – Until, you read this entry of his diary. 

This was dated the day you had found out the relationship between Ada and Noel –

_Sometimes, we don't realize the little things we have in life, those we take for granted, thinking that these little things are always going to be around us, until we lose them. I don't know why she did it, why she didn't shoot me right through my heart when I gave her all the chance to. I would have gladly accepted the fate – my death, at her hands but she couldn't do it. I wanted to look her in the eye and tell her I wanted nothing more to wipe those tears off her eyes that day, but something stopped me._

You closed your eyes, a stray tear sliding down your round cheek and swallowed the lump forming in your throat as you remembered that day. That day was a start of this journey you had thought had ended that day. If Tommy hadn't left you that day, none of this would have happened. God knows, how your life would have been today. 

With a heavy heart, you flipped through the pages, your heart swelling at the countless mentions the diary had about you from that day onwards. 

Tommy was hurt when he saw you at the races that day, your belly swollen, your arm in that bastard's arm, Edmund Moore. He wanted nothing more than to kill him, right then and there.

An hour passed – you stepped out of his study, his diary tucked under your arm as you made your way into the parlor. Tommy looked up from the files he was reading, a questioning look on his face.

"Where have you been, love? It's been an hour." 

You looked around; Charlie being nowhere in sight, Tommy's gaze following yours. 

"Charlie fell asleep, I tucked him in bed, now, I am famished, is the dinner ready yet?" 

You gave him a weak smile, his diary still tucked under your arm and you nodded. 

"Go freshen up, Tommy – while I lay the dining table." 

He nodded and almost stretched his arms in the air. 

"I'll take a shower then." 

You hummed at Tommy's words as he walked up to you and gave you a quick peck on your lips and walked off, towards the bedroom. 

Once Tommy's footsteps had retreated away and you were sure that he was gone, you hoisted yourself down on the couch, your back resting against its back as you pulled out the diary, laying it on your thigh, randomly flipping through its pages –

_Grace will always be with me, she will always be my first love, and maybe, my last. I see her in (Y/N). Every time she smiles at me or holds our son, it feels as though Grace is back._

You couldn't bring yourself to read any further. This was a mistake – the oblivion was better. It made you believe that your husband loved you. And he was over his first wife. This revelation was like an arrow pierced right through your heart.

You looked around yourself and suddenly, an overwhelming sadness was lurking around you, causing your eyes to start leaking, and your breathing to fasten. You couldn't pull out those memories away from your mind. All you thought of was, how Tommy was a loving man, ever since your marriage to him. He was different with you, a side of him that was only reserved for you. You knew his passion for horses, his dreams, how he loved spending time in the stables, brushing his fingers through their manes – only you knew. But now, none of it felt real anymore. You knew it because he saw Grace in you. He was with you because he was trying to fill up the void that Grace had left in his heart. You were just a body for him to use and a mother to his child. 

You blinked yourself out of a daze when you heard footsteps in the hallway but you couldn't bring yourself to stand up, your body felt frozen to a spot. 

"Fuck (Y/N), what does a man have to do to get a little food around here? I'm fam –" 

He stepped into the parlor, speaking until he suddenly stopped, his eyes falling on you and then down on his diary that was laying on your thighs. His hand flew to his face as he swiped over it with his fingers, a sudden anxiety flashing over his usually calm face. 

"Love, it's not what you think –" 

You stood up suddenly, the diary falling off and landing on the carpeted floor, forgotten. You raised your hand in the air, a signal for him to shut up. He saw the burning rage in your eyes, hidden under a coating of your tears and he just lowered his head. 

You wanted to laugh – at yourself, for thinking that Tommy Shelby was in love with you. 

"Why did you fuckin' look me in the eye and tell me you love me? Why?" 

"Jesus, fuck, that – it's not fuckin' like that. I wrote that ages ago, when I married you." Tommy said.

You didn't realize how badly you were shaking now. Tommy walked up to you, placing both his arms on either of your shoulders but you pushed him away, with a force you didn't know you possessed. 

"Don't fuckin' touch me, _Thomas_. You selfish prick." 

You started walking out of the door, only to stop when you had reached the door. You turned around and looked at the defeated man in front of you, but you felt no pity. 

"I would have still been in this marriage, if you hadn't lied to me – told me the truth, that you could never love me like you loved her. For Charlie. But this is a low blow, Tom. My world fuckin' shattered, just by reading that fuckin' diary of yours. I just– " You took a deep breath, trying to calm the pounding in your head, "– the food's in the fuckin' pan, help yourself. And please don't follow me." 

You slammed the door shut as you walked out of the parlor, forcing yourself not to cry. Your steps were fast until you reached your shared bedroom with Tommy. You didn't stop – but instead, you moved to room adjacent to it and stepped inside, closing the door and bolting it from the inside.


End file.
